Prologue to an Epilogue
by CeeCee and Munch
Summary: [Treasure Planet]. Set between the return from Treasure Planet, and the end of the film. Jim struggles with Academy life, Doppler fails to court Amelia and Long John Silver finds himself in more trouble than he thought he was worth. Very exciting.
1. New Beginnings

**Prologue to an Epilogue**

CHAPTER 1 

Long John Silver watched, involuntarily grinning, as Jim Hawkins was met by cheers, hugs and thanks from the depleted crew of the RLS Legacy. He found himself chuckling, proud of the boy's success as if Jim were his own son, while the nagging thought of the sentence that awaited him in Crescentia was pushed out of his mind. The boy was a genius, a true ruddy genius! Fifteen years old and already a hero! Imagine risking his own life to save an old space-dog like John Silver!   
Yet, after all the work and effort, all the risks Jim had faced, John Silver would be the first of the pirates to hang. Jim would have parades in his honour after docking in Crescentia, while all Silver had to look forward to was the noose. It would be a terrible shame for the boy to have accomplished so much just to have it taken away from him. Jim was a good lad, and he deserved his glory. Who was he to stop the celebrations? With a discreet silence he was well-accustomed to by now, Silver stepped into the shadows of the deck and disappeared without a whisper.   
Creeping towards the hangar bay beneath the deck, Silver couldn't help an audible sigh. He wasn't such a bad guy; at least, he'd never wanted to be. As he had watched Jim up there, he had noticed the gleam of determination in his eyes. They lit up with hopes and dreams; a million adventures waiting to be sought, a million treasures waiting to be found. And he knew that Jim would find them all. Silver had had that gleam once, Silver had had those dreams. But you have to sacrifice a few things, chasing after a dream. Sometimes, more than you can bear. 

Growing up in the small community of Pelsinor wasn't easy for Jack and John Hund. No easier than it had been in Noruega, Astramina, or Perlo. Their parents busy merchants, the Hund brothers often found themselves more at home on a trading ship than in any of their small, almost-forgotten houses. It seemed they had never settled down before they had to move again, and poverty stuck to them like a barnacle. John's earliest memories were blurred collections of new homes, new faces, none of which made a lasting impression. His only friend, his only proper memory, was his elder brother Jack.   
There was no thought of a life on shore for either of them; even their childhood games involved nothing but leading the most daring quests, fighting cosmic storms, and battling fearful pirates. They were destined for the etherium, for the stars. They would catch a wave and, together, ride towards whatever adventure they found. Just John Hund and his elder brother Jack... 

Silver forced himself back to the present as he entered the hangar bay, hurriedly releasing the last longboat of its rope. He wished he could have said goodbye to Jim and explained a few things, but that would be suicide. It would be easier this way, leaving the child to his praise and slipping away while no one was looking.   
"Morphy," he whispered, swiping at the creature buzzing merrilly around his head, "we gotta make tracks."   
As he tugged at the last rope, preparing himself for another rat-like escape, a voice came clear and unsettlingly loud behind him: "You never quit, do you?"   
Even without turning round, Silver knew the voice as Jim's. The lad was sharp, he'd grant him that. Forcing a smile, he turned to greet him warmly. "Ah, Jimbo!" he laughed, as if the boy had caught him trying to escape after mutiny a hundred times.   
Jim's face was stone.   
Silver sighed, considering his weak options of explanation. "I was... merely checkin' to make sure our last longboat was safe an' secure." It sounded pathetic, even to his own ears. Jim's expression never changed as he took the rope in his strong hands and fastened a painful knot. "Well, that should hold it."   
Silver smiled despite himself, reflecting, "I taught you too well."   
Jim said nothing.   
"Now, if ya don't mind, we'd just as soon avoid prison," Silver explained grimly. There was no more use in pretending. "Little Morphy here," he said, catching the creature in his cyborg hand, "he's a free spirit. Bein' in a cage, it'd break his heart..."   
For a long moment, they looked at one another, and Silver didn't think he was going to get away. The boy was too sharp for his own good, and he didn't take too kindly to betrayal. What Silver had done to him must have hurt him badly. Tears now, not glory, were shining in his eyes. Slowly, Jim made a fist and punched the hatch release, letting the bay doors swing open. Silver was forgiven. With a hearty laugh, Silver swung one arm around Jim's small shoulders. "What say ya ship out with us, lad?" he asked, for once meaning it. "You and me, Hawkins and Silver! Full of ourselves, and no ties ta anyone!"   
Morph, excited at the prospect, repeated the words happily before shaping himself as a pirate hat, much like Silver's, and fell on to Jim's head. Wistfully smiling, Jim removed Morph and let him transform back into his own form.   
"You know," he confided, "when I got on this boat, I would have taken you up on that offer in a second... But I met this old cyborg and he taught me that I could chart my own course. And that's what I'm going to do." He stopped, staring at the sea of stars twinkling peacefully beneath them. It was hard to remember the fear he had felt just hours before at the hand of this man. The mutiny under Silver's control, the crash onto the planet, the planet's triggered explosion... Now he was standing at his side like a father, prompting him to continue.   
"And what do ya see off that bow o' yours?" Silver asked quietly, placing a loving hand on Jim's shoulder. Jim turned to face him. "A future."   
"Look at ya," Silver exploded in a howl of affection, "glowin' like a solar fire! You're something special, Jim; you're gonna rattle the stars."   
They fell into each other's arms then, and for one innocent moment, Silver wasn't a criminal, he was a man with something to live for.   
"Got a bit o' grease in this cyborg eye o' mine," he said, his voice full of emotion as he broke away.   
Sniffing, Jim turned to Morph who was nuzzling him affectionately, just as affected by the events as they were. "Ah, Morph... I'll see you around, okay?"   
Silver looked at them together, smiled, and said with some resolve, "Morphy, I got a little job for ya. I need ya to keep an eye on this here pup." The expression on Jim's face, he thought, was worth the loss. "Will ya do me that favour?"   
Silver climbed into the longboat, alone, and looked back on his only friends as it began to descend. "Oh, one more thing." He reached into his pockets and pulled out a handful of treasure he had managed to grab before escaping the planet. He knew he had enough for himself to last him a while, and the expression on Jim's face as he threw it into his hands was worth all the treasure he could chase after. "For your dear mother," he explained as the longboat pulled out of the bay. "To rebuild that inn of hers."   
"Stay out of trouble, you old scallywag," Jim instructed warmly.   
"Why, Jimbo, lad," Silver exclaimed, feigning suprise, "when have I ever done otherwise?" His laugh echoed through the hangar bay and through Jim's mind as he watched Long John Silver disappear into the etherium, forever. He and Morph stood frozen for a moment, watching the stars pass by beneath. Then, with a mutter of, "A future," Jim closed the bay doors and began tracing his journey back to the deck, where he would have to prepare some brilliant excuse to cover Silver's escape for Captain Amelia. 

Katherine Amelia, under Doctor Doppler's command, was lying inbetween thick blankets on the bow, supposed to be resting while the ship eased into the spaceport Crescentia. She was instead criticising every movement the doctor made at the helm of the unsteady ship, making commands of new recruit B.E.N. to read navigational systems he could barely comprehend as he glared at them in jealousy, and demanding that her orders were followed right to the last word - which, for two who had little or no knowledge of steering the ship, was difficult.   
"Ah, Mr. Hawkins," she smiled as Jim crept on deck, "just the gentleman I wanted to see. Two degrees to the right, Doctor, you have a very shakey grip. Did you tie Mr. Silver up - three degrees to the left now, Doctor - with the others in the brig? Doctor, it's a ship you're steering, not a -"   
The glare from Doppler halted her mid-sentence, and she turned huffily towards the nervous cabin-boy - one eye trained on Doppler's hand movements.   
Jim hesitated guiltily, and Amelia's attention was suddenly focused entirely on him. "Mr. Hawkins?"   
"He managed to get to the hangar bay, Captain," Jim said quietly. "He's gone." 

**Author's Note:**   
The authors would like to you to note the following: as the title may well imply, this fic takes place before the end of the film as a means of explaining what happened in the time between getting off the Legacy and the opening of the new and improved Benbow Inn (a period of about two years, what with Doppler being such a slow walker). None of this is based on fact, nor even hear-say, simply our sick and liquidating minds.   
Much technical information and character detail was nabbed from 'Treasure Planet: A Journey of Exploration' and the media pack released for the film. Yes, Captain Amelia is actually referenced as Katherine in there. It's a truly bad pun, but we're glad it's not ours.   
We own no copyrights, but if we did, we'd be crueller than Anne Rice and stop you all from writing fan fiction about _our_ story!   
Flame if you will, but there's no guarantee that you won't be hunted down. 


	2. Reflections

Chapter Two **Prologue to an Epilogue**

CHAPTER TWO 

Later, in a small Robo-Constable Holding Station on Crescentia Space Port, things were going considerably less in their favour.   
"So you're telling us," the Robo-Constable said in as sardonic a tone he could muster from his mechanical voice-box, "that a special portal transported you across the galaxy in the nick of time?"   
"Yes!" Delbert Doppler was ragged with frustration. These blasted robots would be the death of him! Suddenly he had extra empathy for Jim for dealing with them so often.   
"And you don't have any illegal transportation devices aboard that ship of yours?" the second growled, his role as Robo Bad-Cop taken very seriously.   
"Well, actually it's not mine -" Doppler stopped, wincing as the Constables looked at one another as snidely as a pair emotionless droids were able.   
"So you didn't service the ship yourself, Doctor?" Good Robo-Constable asked, staring down at Doppler as he fidgetted with his sideburns.   
"Well... not exactly, no..." 

The circus of a crowd in Amelia's private room at the tiny hospital on Cresentia might have been fun to entertain, had they not been asking some fairly difficult questions. Her head pounding, Captain Amelia did her utmost to answer the prying reporters. It was getting a little tedious, though.   
"Do you have any proof that Treasure Planet ever existed?" A lanky woman - a chameleon - leaned forward and thrust a small microphone towards the captain. "Rhonda Frost, Supernova News Network."   
"Well -" Amelia thought of mentioning the treasure Jim had shown them, claiming he had managed to grab a handful. They would probably take it from him. "...No, none at all, I'm afraid."   
"How do you expect us to believe this miraculous tale?" a grouchy looking old frog with an unfeasibly large moustache interrupted Rhonda before she could prod Amelia further.   
"I don't expect you to," Amelia cut back sharply, one eyebrow raised. "But if you don't, I suggest you leave now as you won't hear any other story from me."   
"Captain!" Rhonda again. "Is it true you endangered and lost almost all of your crew on the journey?"   
An icy silence followed, as Amelia weighed the question in her mind. Yes, plenty of pirates had died. Mutinous scumbags, the lot of them!   
"A few pirates were killed in the proceedings. And one of my crew," Amelia replied at last, leaving the details untold. She didn't want them to ask about Mr. Arrow.   
"Pirates!" Rhonda was nearly salivating. "What happened to them? Did they try to steal the ship?"   
"They made a bid for the treasure, and lost their own lives for their greed. Those who managed to escape have been handed over to the authorities."   
As if on cue, the door burst open and two standard issue Robo-Constables rolled in. The whistled shrilly at the crowds, and Amelia's hands flew to her ears at the sound sliced into her already aching brain.   
"Everybody must leave now!" the first barked as they rolled forwards to clear the doorway.   
"Everyone except the suspect, that is," added the second, gesturing for the press to leave.   
"Suspect?" Rhonda Frost was on them in an instant, her buggy eyes popping out even further than usual at the prospect of a juicy story. "Is the good captain on trial for murder?"   
"Has she murdered someone?" The Robo-Constable was definitely not used to dealing with members of the press. Usually one of his superiors, likely a live person, would release a statement to the tabloids.   
"Ma'am, we'll deal with the criminal," the second constable added officially, signalling towards the door for a second time.   
Grumbling and scribbling in their notebooks, the crowd trooped out in single file. Before the door had closed behind the last one, the Robo-Constables were at Amelia's bedside.   
"We have to ask you a few questions, ma'am." Fantastic. More bloody questions. 

Forty-eight hours of answering the same questions with the same answers with the same skeptical look in response had taken it's toll on everyone. Nobody wanted to talk about the adventure any more, not even Sarah Hawkins. The atmosphere in Dr. Doppler's cluttered home was tense at best, and arguments flared quickly.   
Jim Hawkins sat moodily by the window, the pile of books he was balanced on swaying every so often. He stared at the stars, hardly believing that days ago he had been on the greatest adventure of his life - and now he was back on Montressor. Stuck between Robo-Constables and his mother.   
Not to mention the captain. She was so restless in Doppler's home that she often disappeared and wandered around outside by herself. When she wasn't out there - where Jim preferred her to be - she was between cursing John Silver's name and spitefully hissing about the press. Every time she talked about Silver, Jim ticked slightly closer to smacking her. He could see her below, star-gazing like him. She was probably thinking of ways she could catch Silver. Probably wanted a reward, or something. Heh, she'd never catch the old spacerat. He was too -   
"Jim," Doppler's voice below startled the boy from his reverie. The doctor had been oddly mopey since the return, as well. Jim barely saw him either, unless it was the back of his head while his nose was in a book.   
"Hey Doc," the boy greeted casually, covering the temper he had been working himself into as best he could.   
"You haven't - er - seen the um...the captain, have you?" Doppler shifted his weight slightly, blinking.   
Jim didn't understand how one man could be so nervous, but he supposed it wouldn't be 'proper' to ask.   
"Outside," he replied curtly, thumbing towards the window. "Again."   
Doppler sighed, inching closer to a window to peer down at Amelia. "Ah, I see. So she is. I'll just, er... thanks, Jim." He hobbled away again and reappeared moments later outside with Amelia, his nervous babble carrying up to the window. "Oh, er, hello, Captain..." His attempts at flirting were almost laughable. Shaking his head, Jim hopped to the floor with no enthusiam, and fell onto the pile of blankets Doppler had offered as a surrogate bed. He lay still for approximately two seconds before the boredom overtook him and, with a cry of frustration, he leapt to his feet and kicked at the floorboards. He knew that while he was trapped in the good doctor's house in the middle of small town Benbow, old John Silver was out there somewhere, chasing his dreams and having the time of his life. 

John Silver had never felt so alone in all his life. Floating along the etherium somewhere, trying vainly to find a planet in the empire that wouldn't be covered in his wanted posters, Silver's thoughts once again turned to young Jim Hawkins. He was beginning to feel giving up Morph to him was a mistake, but he knew somewhere in the heart he had forgotten that Jim needed the company more than he. He had been a lot like Jim when he was younger. Full of a lot of dreams, a lot of ambitions, but no opporunities. He would have given all the treasure on Treasure Planet (save, perhaps, just a _few_ drubloons to keep himself going) to make sure Jim took every chance he got. He didn't want another useless old cyborg roaming the skies thirty years from now.   
Useless old cyborg.   
He could have been more, done more, like Jim. If he'd only had the chance. Feeling sorry for himself, small (comparitively) and alone in the middle of the vast, hostile etherium, Silver tried to remember where it had all gone wrong. 

John was fifteen when his parents died. He couldn't remember how it happened - he hadn't seen it. Jack just woke him up one morning and said, "Looks like it's just you an' me from now on, kid." That's what Jack had been like. He was a survivor.   
John didn't remember crying - he didn't remember much - but he did know that Jack had taken him to the space port shortly after. There was some bar on the edge of the port, near the etherium, where Jack left him. He couldn't remember the name, but it seemed very big, and very busy; full of staring eyes all fixed accusingly in his direction. He had been nervous, he knew that much. He was underage, but big for fifteen so the barkeep said nothing when he ordered a Phenalyne beer-drink. He perched uncomfortably on a stool at the counter, and waited for Jack. He had promised he wouldn't come back to the - what _was_ the name of that pub? - until he had found jobs for both of them (some childish part of John's mind had imagined what would happen if Jack fulfilled this promise), and was trying to get them hired on pirate ships. He wasn't sure if Jack had known they were pirate ships at the time, but he had a strong suspicion that it wouldn't bother him one way or the other.   
The sudden deaths, leaving home, his first ever job, his first ever drink - his mind was absorbed in so much teenage thought that he didn't notice the man sitting beside him right away. He was an unusual creature - John didn't have an education, and didn't recognise the race - but he would have been unusual if he were human or feline. He had a large shell covering his back which showed through his tattered cloak, and long, awkward limbs which hung loosely beneath him. John had never seen anything like him before. A spacer's hat cast a deep shadow across his face, making his age difficult to judge. He was probably in his fifties or sixties, but the dark rings under his eyes made him seem a lot older. He stared around the bar with his small, suspicious eyes, and started at objects only he could see. He was hunched over his drink, clutching it with two shaking hands as he muttered into it wildly. John wasn't sure if he was drunk or just crazy. The man turned his long neck to look at John, and grinned madly. "He's dead."   
John choked on his beer. "What'd ya say?"   
The creature leaned forward, his neck snaking its way out of his shell as if it had a life of its own. He pushed his face so close to John's that he could smell the drink on his breath. "He was a-chasin' me for fifty-five years," he confided, "I've been hidin', ya know, for fifty-five years. But he's dead now; he can't chase me no more. He can't kill us all if he's dead."   
"Yeah, lay off the Nurputian Whiskey there, mate," John groaned, edging away from the man.   
"I knew his secrets, _I KNEW ALL HIS SECRETS!_" he hissed, retracting his neck.   
The bartender, who had been watching them both suspiciously, approached John. "Dun' ya be mindin' ol' Billy Bones there, pup. He's jus' an' ol' man who's seen the bot'um o' too many a glass. Been in ev'ry day fer near two years now. Crazy ol' chap. Jus' sits there, talkin' away ta himself all day long."   
Billy Bones seemed to ignore this analogy, muttering something under his breath, but John gave a brief nod of appreciation and the bartender, satisfied, walked away. Where was Jack now anyway? What was taking so long?   
"Thinks I'm a crazy ol' git, that Jones," Billy grumbled loudly. "Thinks I dun' know nothin', but I've seen more than he ever will. Had ma paws on a king's ransom, I did, still have it all!" He chuckled loudly at this, then suddenly dropped low to the counter again, a look of fear crossing his eyes. "Ol' Flint would kill me if he knew, he's coming after me, he's gonna kill me for what I done!" He stopped, relaxed. "But he's dead."   
John paused at the name and his attention turned back to the babbling old man. "Flint?" It seemed familiar somehow, but he couldn't place it.   
Billy nodded and leaned in closer, his grotesque neck stretching across the gap between them. "Aye, Flint. Scurge o' the sea, they called him, but he liked me, he did. Was careful what he said roun' me, but I heard it. I heard what he didn' say an' I heard what he did say. Ol' Billy Bones was a spy in his day, he was. Ya had ta be a spy roun' Flint."   
John stared into his mug as Billy continued hissing his obscure secrets. Where had he heard the name before?   
Flint, he remembered finally, Captain Nathaniel Flint, was a pirate captain who pillaged a thousand ships and a thousand worlds. He could appear out of air before you noticed and disappear from sight before you could stop him. He had read the stories enough times as a child, and the myths were flooding back to him now. Somehow he stole enough treasure to last a million men a million lifetimes, or so the stories said. And the stories said no one ever knew what happened to it all - or to Flint. Stories. Just stories.   
The interest in John's eyes died. "You're a crazy ol' man," he resolved, turning away.   
"It's true," Billy whispered, "it's all true. An' no one asks Billy what happened, an Billy dun' tell no one. But it's all true." He took a finalising swig of his drink, and said nothing more.   
Lifes can change in a moment, in a word. Jack still wasn't back. Humorously, John said, "What ya tryin' ta tell me, ol' man?"   
"I took the key when I left, ya see," he continued in a hurried whisper, as if he were confessing to a priest. "I took it so he couldn't chase me, an' I hid it an' I made sure nobody else could find it. It trapp'd him there, ya see; he'd kill me if he knew, he'd come after me and slit my throat, and he'd take my chest..." He looked around the bar darkly, as if any of the customers might try this same move, and pulled a small trunk off the floor and into his lap, hugging it protectively. Then, the dark look cleared from his face and he remembered, "But he's dead!"   
The trunk beneath Billy's quivering hands was as old as he, covered in strange hieroglyphics John had never seen.   
Again, the old man had caught his interest. "Wha's in the chest?"   
Billy froze, his cold eyes turning on John. "Young pups be best not askin' too many questions of ol' Billy Bones. I've seen too much, an' I've done too much, an' I dun want ta answer fer any of it."   
This answer, suprisingly sincere, caught John offguard. Quietly, turning his back on the old man like the other regulars, John began to muse over Billy's odd responses. He knew, although he couldn't explain it, that there was something more to him than the others could see, and he'd be the son of Benbonian if he wasn't the one to crack it.   
A man named Flint - Captain Flint? - had supposedly been chasing him for fifty-five years (hadn't the pirate attacks been reported fifty or sixty years ago?), because Billy had stolen something important from him, a key did he say? If Billy really had been involved with Captain Flint - and what were the chances? - then he would have had to have worked on the same ship as him to find out all his secrets, he would have had to be a pirate. Unless he was a really clever Robo-Constable (and John doubted Billy was a clever anything). But whatever had happened to the old man, he was very protective of the chest. And John wanted to know why.   
"So, Billy sir, what makes you think _CAPTAIN_ Flint wants this 'key' back anyway?"   
Billy began without a flinch. "Ooh, the cap'n needs the key to open the door, ya see. It's the only way inta the treasure."   
"The treasure?" John prompted excitedly.   
"Dun' ya be askin' me abou' the treasure!" Billy snapped, slamming his clawed fist on the bartop. "Yer jus' like the cap'n! That's all he cared abou'! He jus' sat there, laughin' and grinnin' like the Devil hisself, grabbin' at it, and strokin' it, and refusin' ta let us near it! Ah, I'm better ta be away from him, he woulda kill'd us all! I heard him plottin' it," his voice was a whisper again, "I heard him plottin' it in his quarters, an' I tol' the men, an' I took the map so he'd never get out. I took it an' I hid it where no one can get it till I'm dead an' gone!" He clutched at his trunk again, laughing manically, and John thought then that he understood. He was about to ask another question when a voice behind him slurred, "Ah, leave the ol' man alone!" 

Silver shook his head then, the memories fluttering back to their respective dark corners. The fight that had gone on in that bar had taught Silver a valuable lesson about picking his fights right, and keeping his voice low. If Jack hadn't come in, he 'd have been in a slew of trouble.   
With a sigh, Silver glanced around. The etherium certainly was a quiet place to be, at the best of times. It shocked him to think that he empathised with that old cabin boy, Billy Bones, now. He must have spent years out here, thinking of people he used to know and things he could never change. Things that had changed him for the worst - like Captain Flint's treasure.   
Silver fiddled with the navigation controls uneasily, imagining himself hulking into a bar and talking to anyone who would listen, even impressionable pups who didn't know their right from left, never mind wrong. Funny, really, that a chance meeting thirty years earlier could leave him where he was then. He hoped that Jim, thirty years on, would have better memories of Long John Silver than he did of Billy Bones. 

* * *

To be continued! 


	3. Inventive Chapter Title

**Prologue to an Epilogue**

CHAPTER 3 

"Oh, er, hello, Captain..."   
Amelia, like Jim, had been staring into space and thinking about John Silver. Her thoughts were far less hopeful for him, and in fact she had been vehemently wishing a severe fate upon him for what he had done to her ship and crew. Especially Mr. Arrow, because it was _Silver's_ cabin boy who had failed her on the lifelines. She shouldn't have told Jim to secure them. She could have done it herself, couldn't she? She glanced at Doppler, her thoughts masked evenly from her face. "Good evening, Doctor."   
"It's, ah, er, a nice night for it, isn't it?" he stumbled over his words. "I mean, it's a nice night for being outside - er, that is if you're happy outside - well, I suppose you must be, since you are..."   
Amelia stared at him for a moment, eyebrows raised.   
"Finished?" she checked, only half teasing.   
"Er, yes," Doppler said firmly, nodding. "But erm - you do seem to disappear an awful lot, Captain..." He was trying to be tactful, but Amelia knew he was trying to ask her why she seemed to be avoiding him like the plague.   
_Truthfully, Doctor, I'm bloody sick of your fawning._ She toyed with the response, knowing she would never be so callous as to say it. He'd been at her side non-stop since they'd arrived back, and staying in the house was like waving a beacon at him: 'Please bring me things I haven't asked for, do things for me that I'm perfectly capable of, and keep me like a pet!'   
Yes, there had been a connection between them on Treasure Planet. Forged there, and destroyed there, probably. When the portal had closed, it was back to reality. Something about Flint's legend was definitely cursed in Amelia's mind, and anything that went along with it.   
"Yes?" she answered coolly, her eyes wandering to the sky above their heads again.   
"Yes, and, er..." Doppler faltered, wondering where to go next. He gave a few low "ums" to buy some time before triumphantly coming out with, "You should really be inside, resting. You, er, don't want to make things worse, do you?"   
Amelia let out a long sigh which sounded more like a hiss. In her mind, she was demanding, "How could things get worse?" but out loud she replied coldy, "I'll be inside shortly, Doctor, don't fret over me," and walked away.   
Doppler watched her step briskly away from him and began to wring his paws nervously. She had seemed to walk away from him an awful lot these last few days. One would almost get the impression one's company was not desirable, and yet on Treasure Planet she had seemed so... different. So much warmer towards him. There had seemed a hope of requital - a hope? Why, she had practically written her vows! She had _MADE_ him believe there was something between them, what with the way she smiled at him! That feline floozie! But now she was Captain Amelia again; no-nonsense and all work. Try as hard as he might, Doppler found it impossible to be angry at her. He liked her too much. 

Things continued very much along the same lines as time went on. Days became weeks, weeks became months, and Amelia couldn't believe she had been at the doctor's home for so short a time; it felt like years had passed within his walls. While Amelia's burns healed, her mind fell further under the pressure of cabin fever, and she sought desperately to get out of Doppler's home and life. Everywhere she turned, he was there, reminding her of a hundred things she would rather forget - or if it weren't him, it was Rhonda Frost and her incessant microphone. The stories in the press were leaning further and further from the truth, and more and more towards the disgraceful, at least for her. Doppler's name, too, had been soiled by the press - or so he kept insisting. Truly, no one had ever heard of the doctor, despite his own opinion of himself, and his attempts at empathy were laughable.   
Jim, it seemed, was the only one who had come out of the whole messy buisness on top of things, and yet he still looked gloomy. Even news of his acceptance at the Interstellar Academy couldn't wipe the teenage depression from his acned face. His mother, whom Amelia held little conference with, had become ecstatic at the news ("Oh, Jim, you did it! You're so clever, you're so wonderful, you're the best son ever, &c"), but Jim himself seemed neither pleased nor interested.   
The news had certainly been suprising - he had been a failure in all his subjects at school and had never even tried to succeed academically - but he was by no means glad to be going. He had imagined, from the moment he watched John Silver disappear into the vast etherium, that he would do the same. Even as a child, his only dreams were of sailing his own ships, having his own adventures, and recent events hadn't quenched his thirst for excitement; rather they whet his appetite. Now, more than ever before, he wanted to live out his dreams. He had imagined that, once the Benbow Inn had been restored and he knew his mother was safe and happy, he would take what was left of the treasure to buy his own ship, perhaps hire a small crew. He would chart his own course and follow his heart's wild whimseys across the universe. But Doppler, and Amelia and worst of all, his mother, expected more of him. Dreams don't make your parents proud of you.   
Jim knew he had to follow their expectations, even if he wanted much more from life. He just couldn't bear to disappoint them.   
The new term at the Interstellar Academy fell shortly after his sixteenth birthday. The captain had bought all the supplies he could possibly need for nearly nine terms at the Academy, needing an excuse to get out of Doppler's house; his mother had bought him new clothes reminiscent of a Robo-Constable's wardrobe, still starchy and uniform to "make a good impression"; and the doctor had supplied him with the useful advice, "Tell your astrophysicists tutor you know me."   
All seemed too excited over his acceptance for him to tell them his own plans for himself. So he went to the Interstellar Academy. Alone. Dreamless.   
Both Morph and B.E.N., the only real friends he had ever managed to make, had to stay at Doppler's house. B.E.N. had given a largely melodramatic goodbye: sobbing, wailing, and clutching onto Jim as if a large enough hug would prevent him from leaving, but Jim was guiltless knowing he would be taken care of. Jim's mum seemed to have a soft spot for him, and he was always willing to make himself useful - although whether he actually helped stood to question. Morph, however, had no friends within the house. Captain Amelia especially seemed to find his presence irritative, and more than once someone had found him trapped within a glass jar - where he sat in the shape of giant, tearful eyes for sympathy - when she had not been in the mood to entertain company.   
And his last friend, his best friend, was out there somewhere, living Jim's dream, while he lived everyone else's. As if the thought were a physical burden, Jim's head drooped pathetically as he boarded the space galleon taking him and a hundred buzzing, exciting new students to the the Academy. He turned to smile bravely at his mother, waving at him with tears of pride and happiness in her eyes, and he was once again reminded of why he had to go through with this. Sighing, he climbed aboard the ship and waited. 

Captain Amelia, glad to have escaped the confine of the doctor's house, stood away from the others, readily breathing in the salty air. How she missed the etherium breeze! It felt wonderful to be back where she belonged, where she knew the order and way of things, rather than the disorder and confusion of Doppler's house. After wishing Jim a half-hearted good luck (the child seemed not to hear her, absorbed in his own ridiculous grief), she began to pace up an down the familiar port of Crescentia, remembering a hundred castings off and quests she had been in, although it felt they were years in the past.   
She had enjoyed her short life: she had enjoyed the success she had achieved, and the accomplishments she had managed. Although she imagined she would never do such things again.   
She had never really thought about a life outside of Interstellar Exploration, and it was impossible to think of one now. The Amelias were a long generation of captains and admirals, each obtaining success and glory in all of their conquests. At just eighteen, she had made her family proud by joining the Naval League, working her way to a high rank. That was, she remembered sadly, where she met Mr. Arrow. He had been a good friend to her, although she would never admit it. He knew her as well as she knew herself, and knew her silent appreciation. When she left the Navy to captain her own ship, he had come with her, happily taking the position of first mate at her side. For years they had worked together, hiring themselves and the Legacy to whomsoever asked (at the correct price, of course), and leading expeditions across the galaxy for obscure collectors, ambitious scientists, or disturbing doctors like Doppler. Amelia was never one to go over the past and wish that things had gone differently, but the loss of Mr. Arrow had hit her harder than the death of her own father. She wasn't ashamed to admit it to herself, either. Mr. Arrow had been a friend, and an equal. Her father... well, he had been like an overlord, almost. Desperate to give everything to his little girl, but control her right down to which career she had chosen. For all her merits in the Navy, Amelia had left only a few years after her promotion. Much to Daddy's disdain, too... It was difficult to see what she would do, now that she was alone.   
With a shake of her head, Amelia cursed herself for falling into a momentarily Jim-like depression. Disciplining herself not to do it again, she forced all thoughts of Mr. Arrow out of her mind. From the corner of her eye, Amelia spotted the deplorable Rhonda Frost. Jim Hawkins, spaceport celebrity, had attracted quite a flock for his send-off, and the chameleon reporter had flushed a disturbing colour of fuscia-pink as she was talking to Dr. Doppler.   
Amelia flexed her ears, taking a sudden interest in the rigging that had been abandoned over a pile of empty barrels nearby. Obviously, she couldn't _help_ but overhear their conversation, could she?   
"Surely," Rhonda slurred in a way Amelia supposed was meant to be seductive, "you'll be lonely when Jim's gone?" "Oh, er - em...well..." The doctor was clearly as articulate as ever. "No, not really. I mean! I'll miss the boy, obviously, but I'm not alone - er, that is I live with a robot and two wome- Erk! I live with three friends!"   
"Well, if you ever want to talk - about anything at all," Rhonda scribbled something quickly on a piece of paper. "This is my address."   
"Oh, erm, yes - thank you," he stammered politely, folding the paper and slipping it into his front pocket.   
"And," Rhonda added huskily, "my communication number." She tore another slip of paper from her notepad and, this time, slipped it inside Doppler's pocket for him.   
Amelia narrowed her eyes to blue-green slits, ears flattening against her head as she turned towards them. Exchanging communication numbers with _Rhonda Frost_, after the way he treated her on Treasure Planet? Of all the insults! Part of her wanted to jump between the pair right then, an impulsive urge to defend her territory. Only, she reminded herself cooly, it wasn't hers - and hadn't she been wishing the doctor would find something to distract him from her? This was for the best, she told herself sternly. Amelia definitely didn't think she was in any fit state to be in a relationship. She liked the doctor, he was a nice enough chap, but she wasn't ready for anything important in her life right then. Her career had been destroyed, her ship confiscated, and her best friend lost in a black hole - frankly, she needed her space. But she wanted Doppler to wait for her.   
With another shake of her head, she buried the feelings, and turned sharply towards Mrs. Hawkins, as if abandoning them at the space port forever. 


	4. Intercourse, of course!

**Prologue to an Epilogue**

CHAPTER 4 

Jim fell heavily to a window seat on the space galleon and stared out at the etherium with some contempt. Several other students floated into the carriage around him, but he was too lost in his own venomous thoughts to pay them much heed. It wasn't until he felt a hand upon his shoulder that he realised the cries of, "Hey, hey buddy?" had been directed at him. He turned, suprised, to stare into the face of a pretty young human girl, whose hand he noted with some pleasant shock, was still on his shoulder. He stared at her dumbly for a moment, drinking in her beauty. She seemed a few years older than him - seventeen or eighteen, maybe - with flowing blonde hair and bright blue eyes which reflected her warm, wide-toothed smile. No girl had ever smiled at him like that before. "Uh, hi," he managed, still gaping at her like a bug-eyed Sombonian.   
"Aren't you Jim Hawkins?" she asked, still grinning expectantly at him. He nodded.   
"Uhm, yeah, I am..."   
"Wow!" she breathed, sitting down so close to him that their thighs pressed lightly together. "Is it true?"   
Jim blinked. "Uhm, is... what true?"   
Another girl - a brunette in a wonderfully short skirt - sat opposite him. "D'uh, the stuff they're saying about Treasure Planet?"   
The blonde leaned closer to him and whispered excitedly, "Were you really there?"   
With a grin of summoned confidence, Jim began to relate his adventure to them, growing braver and wittier around the girls as they giggled and gasped at his stories. Elizabeth, the blonde, seemed to actually be flirting with him - with him! - and he found himself exaggerating some of the more exciting moments to see her squeal with delight and suspence. The brunette (Victoria) he noted with a pang of disappointment, was later joined by a boy a little older than Jim who appeared to be her boyfriend. He sat as quietly enthralled in Jim's story as the girls, however, until Jim came to his miraculous one-man attempt to save the hundreds of lives on the Legacy by racing against time and fate towards the impossible map on his self-built solar surfer.   
"You surf?" he interrupted brightly. It was the first thing he'd said since, "Hey, scootch over."   
Jim eyed him warily for a moment. "Yeah."   
"You any good?"   
"Yeah."   
Elizabeth giggled again, and Jim felt himself growing bolder.   
"You know," the boy - Thomas, he found out later - began, "some of the students at the Academy set up this surfing team. It's run by the Prefects, but it's really cool. We race against each other, swap tips, that kind of stuff, but it's kinda... elite. We only let the coolest guys into it... You interested?"   
Elizabeth was smiling at him again, her leg pressing against him almost encouragingly. He grinned. "You bet!" 

The reigns in Doppler's hands were the least of his concern, in spite of the fact that he was supposed to be driving Delilah who - though faithful and toilet trained - certainly wasn't intelligent enough to pick the way home. The journey back across to Montressor from the Spaceport had been in extended uncomfortable silence - but at least on the bus-ship there had been other tourists, and most importantly other places they could go.   
Sarah Hawkins seemed to be pining for Jim already, curled away from Doppler against the side of the carriage, whereas the captain, who occupied Doppler's thoughts rather than the navigation, stared blankly at the darkened scenery of the area. One leg crossed neatly over the other, hands clasped in her lap. She was also quite oblivious to the way the doctor had been looking at her, which was probably for the best.   
He allowed his gaze to rove, for the millionth time, over her legs and hips, stopping there in case he happened to meet her eye - or a set of claws - further up. As he was mentally reprimanding himself, an indignant voice invaded the silence.   
"Hello? Are we _there_ yet?" B.E.N. called down. Strapped to the roof, the motor-powered noisemaker had been remarkably silent for the bulk of their journey. He must have blown a gasket, keeping everything he thought to himself for over twenty minutes.   
Doppler groaned audibly, though he hadn't meant to. It earned what he hoped was a glance of empathy from the captain, which he would have returned had she not looked away just as quickly.   
"Not long now," he replied to B.E.N., clearing his throat guiltily as he tried to scrub his mind of Amelia's anatomy. It didn't work, nor did it help that she shifted her weight suddenly - brushing against him briefly as she leaned out of the carriage further. At least they were home now, and in one piece. Delilah deserved a few extra Purps in her feed for getting them home without humiliating Doppler completely. He shuddered to think how the conversation would have gone, had he taken them the wrong way...   
"Wrong turn? Delbert, you drive this way all the time!" Sarah would say. And he'd have to admit he was too busy looking at... er, nothing, to notice all the entirely familiar surroundings would have changed. Yes, perhaps an extra bucket of purps... 

Amelia sighed as the carriage pulled up once more at Doppler's house. Home, sweet home. Doppler smiled uncertainly as he hopped to the ground and offered Sarah Hawkins his hand to help her down, too.   
"Well... home, sweet home!" he laughed nervously, and Amelia rolled her eyes. To Doppler, the silence that followed was unnaturally long. He found himself staring at Amelia, almost with a longing, wondering what had severed the connection he was certain they had shared back on Treasure Planet. Somehow, he had done something to make her turn from him, and he worried they would never be that close again - or closer.   
"Doctor," she said briskly, interrupting his thoughts as she refused his outstretched hand and leapt to the ground herself. "If I may have a word?"   
"Oh, intercourse - I mean of course! Of course..." Doppler hit his forehead with his hand and cursed under his breath.   
Sarah, looking between them shyly - and trying not to laugh - felt out of place and unwanted. With a small "oh", she hurried into the house. They were alone.   
Turning so she wouldn't have to look at him, Amelia reached to stroke Delilah's mane. Upon the realisation that Delilah resembled a large slug, her fingers curled back into her glove and her arm collapsed at her side. She stepped away quickly, watching with suspicion the eyes that followed her on stalks. "Uh, oh yes, Doctor, regarding this whole business with the media," she began, collecting her thoughts.   
"Yes?"   
"I think it would be wise if we stopped releasing statements about... what happened." Amelia paused, carefully choosing her next words, not wanting to reveal anything she would later regret. There was an empty block in her memory of the events after the fever had made her practically delirious. She could guess, from the way Doppler grinned at her sometimes, that she had said something she would rather she had not.   
"The media... will only make fools of us. It would be better - for our reputations, of course - if we chose not to comment to any reporters. Rhonda Frost, especially." She had pronounced the name more testily than she had meant to, and a long silence followed.   
Doppler shifted uncomfortably. "Uhm, yes, why?"   
Amelia, frustrated that he hadn't taken her words as an order, sighed as she tried to think of a way to explain it again. "That _insipid leech_ of a woman is trying, quite transparently, to corrupt our story into a scandal!"   
Doppler frowned, his trusting nature betraying him yet again. Amelia still had difficulty believing he had almost told a group of blood-thirsty scavenger pirates about the map.   
"I wouldn't go _that_ far..."   
"Wouldn't go so far?" Amelia glared at him incredulously. "She practically sold herself to you!"   
Doppler, flustered, burned red at the comment. "Now you see here, missy... miss... ma'am..."   
Amelia waited, eyebrows raised as he bumbled his sentence into oblivion. "Well?"   
"How could you be so... catty, you... jealous feline?"   
"Jealous?" Amelia repeated, her ears flattened against her head. "Doctor, need I remind you," she hissed dangerously, "there is more than just your personal- your... position at stake here?"   
"Captain, I, erm, I didn't mean to offend you!" he stuttered nervously.   
"Offended?" she snarled, her eyebrow arching. Quickly composing herself, she repeated with less emotion, "Offended? Doctor, I am far from offended."   
_I passed by offended about five minutes ago_, she admitted inwardly.   
Doppler, desperately wringing his hands, searched for the right words. "Uhm, Captain I, uhm..."   
Seeing her opportunity to escape the conversation, which didn't seem to be going to her advantage, she smiled haughtily. "While this conversation is _stimulating_, Doctor, I have more pressing matters to attend to." Amelia spun on her heel, intending to storm into the house, but Doppler followed her stubbornly. "Would you just shut up and let me apologise?" he yelled with suprising strength.   
Taken aback by his sudden forcefulness, Amelia turned to look him in the eye. "And what, precisely, are we appologising for, Doctor?"   
"I don't know!" he snapped, irritated. "But you seem pretty wound up about it!"   
No response at hand, Amelia simply narrowed her eyes at him, saying more with that action than her deceptive tongue ever would. She turned away again and reached for the door. Hardly meaning to, Doppler grabbed her arm, pulling her to face him again. As if it burned him, he threw her arm back and clutched his rebel hands together. She tensed, not sure how to react to his touch. He had never grabbed her during an argument before - in fact, they hadn't touched since they were back on the Legacy. They stared at each other for a moment, like scared school children. Doppler was the first to break the terrible gaze, choosing to stare intently as his feet instead. He cleared his throat to cover the silence. "Well, ah, I hope you... accept... my apology... yes."   
"Doctor, how can I accept an apology completely vacant of meaning?" Amelia asked, resisting the urge to play with her sleeve where Doppler had caught her arm.   
"I don't know what I'm apologising for!" Doppler looked as though he might be at his wits' end.   
"Then why are you apologising?"   
"Good question! I mean, really - I haven't done -" he stopped, his eyebrows perched so high on his forehead they looked like they might regroup with his hairline.   
"What sort of dribbling lunatic apologises for something he doesn't realise he's done? Doctor, I think you might want to get that head of yours examined."   
"You! I... YOU!"   
"Witty as ever, Doctor. It's getting late, so I suppose we must have crossed the border of sentient conversation. Goodnight."   
With that, Amelia finally made her escape and slipped into the house - leaving Doppler, jaw firmly slackened, standing outside with Delilah. 

The journey to the Academy had picked up considerably with the company of Elizabeth, Victoria and even Thomas, in spite of his boyfriend status to Victoria, and Jim was suprisingly happy to be talking to people his own age.   
As the ship had docked, Thomas had gruffly suggested they discuss surfing more at supper - meaning he would have someone to sit with, and none of them had made fun of him! He was halfway through congratulating himself when he had to stop abruptly in his tracks - he had almost passed the H dorm.   
He checked the register outside, all the last names began with H. Near the top he spotted his own name, 'James Pleiades Hawkins - HA'. He scowled at the sight of his hideous middle name on display to the world, various scoldings from his mother coming to mind. He shrugged the feeling off, glancing between the two wooden doors. The one to the left had 'HA' engraved on a plaque, to the right, 'HB'.   
Was he supposed to knock? He decided not to. He dragged his suitcase forward, cursing his over-attentive guardians. He had enough accessories with him to provide for everyone in his year, he was sure.   
"You must be Hawkins!" was the first thing Jim heard when he entered the dimly lit dorm room. Bunkbeds lined the walls, and the only window was at the far end - lending a strangely eery gradient to the lighting in the room.   
"How'd you know?" Jim glanced around, fifteen faces turned towards him - not one revealing a single clue about who had spoken.   
"You're the only one not here already," the same voice sounded again, and a chubby cadet sat up on one of the top bunkbeds.   
"Oh." Jim scuffed his way across the room, sitting tentatively on the last free bed - the bottom one, next to the window. He could tell why it was empty - there was a cutting draught blowing across it.   
"Hey, Hawkins!"   
Geez, did that guy never let up on anybody? He already had the draughty bed! Jim glanced across at the portly looking cadet, who was padding towards him. He noticed this time around that the boy was intensely freckled, and barely human. He looked like a half-breed of a human and something with gills. Jim didn't like to think about the mating rituals involved in the boy's creation.   
"I'm Roy Hall." A cool, clammy hand was suddenly shaking Jim's roughly.   
"That's a great grip you got there, Roy." Jim yanked his hand free, eyebrows peaked in the centre of his forehead. What on earth did Roy Hall want to bother _him_ for? He had to worry about when he would find time to build a solar surfer, to try out like Thomas had suggested.   
"Yeah. So I heard some stuff 'bout you on the ship over," Roy's tone sounded deliberately conversational, and Jim realised he had the undivided attention of everyone in the room. Oh, so Roy was the spokesperson, was he? The short straw?   
"Really? Know where I can get a solar sail?" Jim tried to steer the conversation, hoping he could diffuse their little plan before it got to full swing.   
"Why would you need one of those?" Roy asked indignantly, wincing as a boy from the bunk above Jim's whacked him and hissed, "Ask him, you moot!"   
"If you wanna know about Treasure Planet..." Jim heaved a sigh. "I'm not in the mood."   
Apparently this wasn't the response they had hoped for, but almost a full day of travelling and talking about his adventure was enough. He turned his back to the room, rolling onto the bed. He quickly realised that his mattress felt like a plank and the pillow a brick as he squeezed his eyes shut.   
"Fine then, Hawkins." Roy spat Jim's last name out as if he had just kissed Mr. Snuff. "We don't even care."   
"Whatever." Jim could feel a headache coming on. Why hadn't he been born James Pleiades Zxigmeister, or similar name that would land him in the 'Z' dorm by himself? He tried to sleep, ignoring the chorus of snide comments about uppity first years with no respect for their roommates. 

When Jim finally woke, it was to the sound of a loud buzzer cracking through the empty dorm. He remembered hearing all fifteen of his roommates decide to go exploring together - one or two older kids, in third year they had said, were offering an almost free tour. They had poked at him for three entire minutes, hissing, "Hawkins! Wake up!" and insisting he had to go with them. Jim had pretended to have died in his sleep, his head still pounding, and they'd finally let him be.   
Now it was dark, even with the cursed window at his head.   
He decided the buzzer was summoning him for food, and had to bite his tongue before he said, "C'mon, Morph - grub's up!" It was going to take a while to get used to life without his protoplasmic sidekick around.   
With a heavy sigh, he stumbled out of the dorm. The place was deserted, and there was no one to tell him where to go. He wandered aimlessly, passing by a variety of empty dorm rooms and growing ever more hungry and impatient with each passing minute. Damn, this called for old-fashioned logic. The galley had been on the lower deck of the Legacy, so the kitchen was probably below decks here as well. Thinking of the Legacy dredged up the memory of Silver again, and Jim scowled sourly. He should be out there, just like him right now. He'd be creeping into kitchens, stealing food and whatever silverware he could lift...   
Jim headed down a flight of stairs, lost in silly pirate fantasy land. Half the things his imaginary self did would have had Jim in jail three times over by now, and he knew he'd never take to doing many of them. It didn't stop him pretending though, for a little while, even just inside his head.   
He rounded a corner, mid-imaginary-chase, and was confronted quite abruptly by a wooden door. His distorted reflection in the dark pane of glass set in the middle looked rather sheepish as the fantasy melted away.   
Jim pressed against the window, cupping his hands around his eyes so that he could see through. Ah! Yes, he'd found the kitchen. The chef had his back turned, although Jim was almost disappointed to find that it wasn't a portly cyborg who was hard at work inside. No, it was a flabby, pale looking alien - and Jim had to say, though it was embarrassing, that the behind he was faced with looked rather familiar. He shook the feeling, and threw his weight against the door.   
It was far more compliant than he had expected. In fact, it flew open so quickly that Jim almost landed upon his face.   
The chef on duty squealed in surprise, and as soon as Jim heard the sound he knew exactly who it was.   
"Mr. Snuff?" he exclaimed incredulously, fixing his tousled hair.   
The Flatulan native beamed, apparently quite proud of himself for escaping the inferno of Treasure Planet _and_ Captain Amelia. Jim hadn't a clue what Snuff was saying, but whatever it was it involved many a large hand movement and the occasional bounce off the floor. From the smell of the food on the go, Jim thought it was a wonder the cadets weren't wasting away.   
"I kinda missed dinner," Jim interjected at the first gap in Snuff's animated monologue. "Any chance I could get something to eat, real quick?"   
Snuff saluted, snatching a bowl from the top of a wobbly pile. It swayed dangerously, and Snuff looked as if he might be praying it wouldn't fall. When it didn't, he went about filling the bowl with chunks of meat and vegetables - still chattering away.   
Jim glanced around the kitchen then, determined that if he didn't see it made the food would be much easier to eat. He wondered how Snuff had escaped from the Legacy - he hadn't been on Treasure Planet. No, probably left to guard the Legacy with that bastard Scroop. He must have escaped when they got to Cresentia! Perhaps Snuff was more cunning than he looked... or sounded.   
A kitchen porter clattered in from a side-door, which apparently led to the dining room. As it swung back and forth, Jim spotted the rows of empty tables, covered in dirty dishes. She looked rather disgruntled, muttering something about 'bloody cadets' and their 'disgusting eating habits'. She was human, about the same age as Jim's mother. He felt a pang of guilt as he thought of Sarah Hawkins. She'd been doing the same job as dish-washer for most of her adult life.   
"Oy," the woman growled at Mr. Snuff. "You gonna help me, Sammy?"   
Sammy? Surely not Mr. Snuff's first name? Jim narrowed his eyes at the chef, realising when Snuff threw him a pleading look over his shoulder that it must be a fake identity he was using. Damn pirates.   
"Sorry," Jim cut in, trying to look as innocent as possible. "I missed the meal, so... _Sam_ here was making me something. I can help you."   
The woman grunted, looking him over in his pristine uniform - clean but wrinkled from sleep. "Best not. Wouldn't want ya getting dirty on yer first day."   
Oh, great, was it that obvious he was in first year? Jim tried to shrug the comment off, accepting the bowl with a curt "thanks" from Mr. Snuff. It looked like space-kill, but Jim ate it anyway - there and then. He handed Mr. Snuff the empty bowl, and turned to leave.   
"See ya around, pal," he called over his shoulder, grinning at Snuff with a quick backwards glance. At last, a familiar face who knew Long John Silver. Maybe things wouldn't be so bad there after all. 

If its eye had not been made of black, Arctonian plastic, Amelia would have sworn the robo-constable was glaring at her with stubborn defiance. It took all of her stern self-discipline not to put a dent in its metal face.   
"The R.L.S. Legacy," she said with summoned patience, "is my ship. MY ship. I OWN it. Legally, it is mine."   
"We cannot allow you possession of the vehicle at this time," the robo-constable repeated. "It will remain in police custody to be stripped and searched owing to the... suspicious circumstances."   
Amelia had been trying for a near half-hour to stop the damn filthy brutes from impounding her ship. At first, it had been taken into custody to be "checked out", which she had been forced to deal with for the past few weeks, but now they were talking about putting it in a robo-constable impounding lot, meaning she would be stuck living with Doppler _indefinitely_. She had no money to move out, no income to come in, and above all, no where else to turn anyway. She needed that ship back!   
"Um, if I may, um, intervene for a moment?"   
Amelia let out her sigh in a long hiss, rolling her eyes as Doppler leapt to her "rescue". Why he had insisted on coming she would never know, although she imagined he would have been slightly put off had she asked to borrow his carriage and rode into town without inviting him. She had tried.   
The robo-constable's automated voice seemed to grow louder (and angrier): "The issue is non-negotiable! The vehicle remains in custody until thourough investigation has proven it to be void of any illegal transport devices or other substances, or-" It paused, the jagged speech lines leaping across its plastic mouth twisting into what was almost a leer. "Or you are convicted. Have a nice day."   
Amelia leapt forward, ready to argue again, but the robot turned quickly on its wheel and sped away. She and Doppler watched from the window of the robo-constable station as the R.L.S. Legacy was clamped onto a police vehicle and towed away. Amelia hardly remembered the last time she felt so useless. She tensed as Doppler placed what she could only assume to be a comforting hand on her shoulder.   
"It will be all right," he soothed - or tried to.   
"Doctor," she sneered, "how can it possibly be all right? My ship has been impounded by animatronic imbeciles! They'll tear her apart the good-for-nothing, electronic, egotistical battery-powered goons!" Amelia ended in a shout, punching her fist against the window. The impact jerked the holographic blinds to life and various images of outside scenes flickered across the screen, blocking the fading view of _her_ ship before it disappeared into the etherium.   
Doppler bumbled on behind her, his attempt at reassurance enough to rival any village idiot.   
"And what's their number one weakness?" Amelia cried over the doctor, refusing to be consoled. "Water! I tell you, what's the world coming to when it's policed by robots who can't even get across a puddle?"   
She sank onto a stool and buried her face within her gloves. The anger out of her system, she was left with an overwhelming sensation of nothingness. She now had no job and a reputation so poor she could scarcely get legal work which didn't involve serving deep fried vegetables and artifically flavoured juices. She was entirely dependent of a man she scarcely knew who frequently shouted the word "intercourse" at her, and she was living so far from the pitiful night-life of Montressor that she had to rely on a giant slug to take her everywhere. For the first time in a long time, Amelia thought she might cry.   
"Come on now," the doctor said eventually in that annoying, calming tone. "Let's go home."   
Vaguely, Amelia wondered where that was for her. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Prologue to an Epilogue**

CHAPTER 5 

Jim, for the fifth time, stared at each of his finds with a look at disbelief: a long shard of metal for the board of his surfer, a piece of rope that barely wrapped around it and an old energy cylinder he had found beside the debris unit (he didn't know what the academy had used it for, but it sparked dangerously from time to time and left him with very little hope). He heaved a long sigh and dropped them to the ground.   
He had chosen to work on building a solar surfer after breakfast (whatever breakfast had been... Mr. Snuff certainly had a hopeful look in his eye when the students had asked if it was dead), rather than dare going back to the dorm where fifteen faces would be pestering him more about Treasure Planet. He had found on the boat ride over that it was remarkably difficult to make deck-swabbing and potato-peeling seem heroic and adventurous. Although the appeal of trying was shining far brighter than the prospects of getting a working solar surfer before the end of the day.   
With another sigh, he kicked the pieces under the wooden stands of what he only assumed to be the school's Anti-Gravity Polo pitch (a sport Jim neither claimed to comprehend nor intended to attempt), and resolved to make a surfer even better than the one those Robopigs had impounded. Pulling a borrowed wrench from his pocket, reminding himself sternly that he most definitely would return it larer, he set to work on the energy cylinder.   
It was also the fifth time he had given up on building the board and quickly decided to try again. Elizabeth's beautiful face kept spinning in his mind as he pictured himself, captain of the team, being congratulated on his speedy board, his magnificent form, his amazing techniques...   
The time ticked away, and Jim's jaw almost locked as he realised he was five minutes late for Astrophysics. Brushing his hands of tell-tale grease, he tried to remember how he had found the pitch in the first place. Was it a right or a left at the debris unit? Hadn't there been a door somewhere...? The school, it seemed to Jim, was bigger and more complex than the entire planet of Montressor.   
He sprinted as hard as he could, practically leaving indented footprints in the concrete floor as he searched for the classroom.   
Another five minutes slipped away, and in a wave of desperation Jim burst into the kitchen.   
"Mr. Snu - Sam! I need to find Astrophysics!"   
The Flatulan alien seemed only too happy to shout directions at Jim, waving his tentacle-like arms to emphasize whatever the hell he was saying.   
"Okay, okay wait! Take a left out of here?" Jim panted, trying to crush his frustration at the language barrier. "Up one floor? Two?"   
The absurd game of charades lasted for far longer than Jim would have hoped. Finally, when he had a vague idea of where he was supposed to go, Jim took off with a cry of "Thanks, Sam!" His boots slapped against the floor, and he was a bright red, sweaty wreck when he finally hauled himself into the class - just off half an hour late.   
"I'm... so sorry..." he wheezed, looking at the distraught professor imploringly. "I asked... for directions... from the chef."   
The professor looked like she might shout at Jim anyway, but several cadets in the room seemed to find his comment too hilarious to keep quiet about it. They giggled, and shouted their empathy for his situation to him. Jim wished he had exploded on Treasure Planet. It would have been preferable to this torture.   
"Take a seat, Mr...?" The professor gestured towards an empty seat, smack in the middle of the front row.   
"Hawkins," he sighed, squeezing past the others already seated. Why they didn't all fill the seats properly was a mystery to everyone involved.   
"Mr. Hawkins, as this is my first lecture of the term you haven't missed much work. If you miss any more, however, you'll find yourself on the receiving end of an official reprimand."   
Jim stared at the desk, trying not to picture his mother's face the way it had been that day Billy Bones had come to the Inn. He was supposed to be turning things around, but the fates themselves had to be against him. No one screwed up this often. He barely listened to the rest of the introductory lecture, and decided it wasn't in his best interests to mention the doctor to the lecturer after his spectacular entrance. His next class, 'An Introduction to Tactics for Battle Situations', had to go better than this. 

"How'm I doing, Sarah?" B.E.N.'s obnoxious tone drove into Sarah Hawkins' skull like a drill. He - never - shut - up. She knew it wasn't his fault, and she knew that however frayed her nerves were she would never shout at the friendly robot, but enough was enough. He had just embalmed the frying pan with eggs so burned there would be no separating them from it.   
In Doppler's kitchen, which in contrast to the rest of the house was rather small, the smell was quite over-powering. She sighed, craving her son's eggs - probably one of his most useful talents, in fact, was Jim's ability to make a simple breakfast. He'd always been so helpful when he was younger, around the Inn.   
"Uhm, why don't we take a break?" Sarah asked hopefully, feeling another pang of neediness rising. "Look!" she pointed out the window, to Doppler's overgrown and untended garden. "You could trim the weeds out there." B.E.N. peered through the steamed-up glass, animated electronic blue eyes blinking. "GREAT IDEA! I'll get the Doc's yard ship-shape in no-time!"   
Sarah tried not to think about Doppler's reaction to hedges trimmed into the shapes of ships, and sent B.E.N. on his way outside. The next time she offered to teach someone how to cook, she thought, pigs would fly.   
She sighed then, her thoughts turning to how long the week without Jim had been. It seemed she had only gotten him back a milisecond before he was off again, all by himself. Part of her - the most selfish part - wished they had never met the old tortoise, and that Jim had stayed at the Benbow and lived a quiet life on Montressor. The rest of her knew Jim would never have done that, whether he had gone to Treasure Planet or not.   
"What is that - er - cooking?" Doppler had slipped into the kitchen, and didn't manage to hide his disgust well, his huge nose almost meeting his forehead as it wrinkled.   
"B.E.N. was practicing," Sarah explained, holding the corpse of the frying pan up.   
"Oh," Doppler inspected it closely. "Oh, I see. Well, I'll...pick up a new one on my way home."   
Doppler had been invited specially to give a lecture at the Interstellar Academy. He had been talking about it all week, and Sarah was green with envy knowing he would see Jim.   
"When you see Jim, tell him-" she started for the millionth time.   
"I know, you send your love," Doppler parroted, smiling in spite of himself. "I'd better go."   
Sarah studied him closely. There seemed to be something else he wanted to talk about, but he was distracted, looking out the window... Sarah turned, half expecting to see a pyre of flames where the garden had once been and that blasted robot in the middle crying "A little help!" Instead, the captain was trying to creep by the preoccupied robot - lending the whole situation a rather slapstick air. Eventually she did manage to get around him unnoticed, side-stepping into the patch of trees at the end of the garden. Like everything in Doppler's house (except the kitchen) the garden was huge. Sarah knew Amelia disappeared down there at least once a day for hours at a time.   
Doppler cleared his throat, muttering "Tell... tell the others I'll see them in a few days."   
"Okay, Delbert," Sarah nodded, wondering if he was being deliberately transparent. Probably not, it wasn't his way. 

Doppler made his own way out the front door, nodding hastily as Sarah shrieked something about 'stopping B.E.N. before it was too late'. He found himself staring off into space as he drove Delilah towards the bus-port, and once again the slug-like beast proved herself to be more than worthy of navigating the journey. In the week since Jim had left, life in the house had been a roller-coaster of frayed emotions. Doppler couldn't get his head around Amelia. She didn't seem to want to have anything to do with him. Honestly, if she couldn't make up her mind things were going to be difficult. The bug-eyed reporter, Rhonda Frost, had been on the communicator once or twice, specifically asking for the doctor each time. Luckily, Amelia wasn't in the habit of answering the calls.   
_Intercourse_, he thought to himself - blushing all over again. She didn't seem to have noticed, or was being extraordinarily kind by ignoring his constant slips of the tongue. Maybe he had offended her, he thought guiltily. And who wouldn't be offended! How was she supposed to take it if a man randomly suggested intercourse?   
Doppler didn't have time to beat himself up any more, as they drew close to the bus-port. He payed the clerk hastily, and promised Delilah he would be back to collect her in three days' time. He tried to push Amelia out of his head, thinking forcefully about his astrophysics lecture and the properties of black holes as he boarded the bus. 

Sarah felt oddly sly as she too slipped by B.E.N. without his knowledge - frankly, he was singing at the top of his lungs and hacking Doppler's hedge to pieces. A herd of Bonzabeasts could have thundered by unnoticed.   
Tracing Amelia was the difficult part. She had a decent head-start, and the trees were so thick that walking through them was like trying to row upstream without an oar.   
"Mrs. Hawkins, I think you'll find it far easier to traverse the forest this way." Amelia's voice sounded awfully close. It took Sarah a moment to realise she was up the tree, sitting comfortably in the crook of a branch.   
"Ah... er, maybe for you." Sarah smiled weakly, dizzy at the thought of climbing so high. Amelia nodded slightly, climbing down only for the sake of well-learned politeness, Sarah imagined.   
"Delbert left," Sarah started rather tactlessly. "He said to say goodbye for him."   
"I'm sure that wasn't nearly important enough for you to chase me all the way down here," replied Amelia icily, waving her hand to emphasize the forest setting.   
"No," Sarah agreed, leaning uncomfortably against the trunk of a wide tree. Yes, she could see why Delbert had trouble communicating with the captain. She was a formidable woman, but she had no authority over Sarah Hawkins. "What is it exactly that's going on with you two?"   
"Excuse me?" Amelia arched an eyebrow, eyes flashing. Apparently, this was a touchy subject.   
"I mean," Sarah paused. What _did_ she mean? "He... Well, Delbert seems... How do I put this...?"   
"Inarticulate?" guessed Amelia wryly, the cruel streak in her tone surfacing. "Clumsy? Buffoon-like?"   
"If you don't like him, why are you still here?" Sarah interjected, glaring up at the feline as she jumped to the defense of her friend.   
A long pause drew out between them as they stared at one another - Amelia apparently working out her response. "I didn't say that," she managed at last, in one breath.   
"Didn't say what?" Sarah looked blank. She had been expecting a vicious comeback, an excuse or a smack from the way the situation had looked.   
"That I don't like him," Amelia admitted uneasily, digging her claws into the bark of a branch over her head. Sarah was taken aback that the confrontation had gone so differently from how she had predicted. A thousand new questions surfaced, but from the look in Amelia's eyes she was lucky to get what she did. The captain definitely wasn't up for girl-talk, especially not if it concerned the doctor.   
"Well - as long as we know where we stand," Sarah tried to make her tone gentle. This was much more complicated than she had thought. "I'll... be watching B.E.N. destroy the garden."   
Amelia managed a quick smile, wincing when (as if on cue) there was a cry of 'Stay up there, ya naughty tree!' and then a suspicious set of violent creaking noises.   
"Oh, good Lord!" Sarah hurried off, dreading to think what she would see when she got there. 

The first week is always the hardest, at least, that's what Jim had been told by his guidance counselor. He seemed concerned with Jim's early signs of trouble - lateness for supper and for his classes. Not to mention the wicked whispers of his anti-social behaviour that had been heard all around the campus. He was surprised to find that in spite of all the mishaps, Thomas was still encouraging him to try out for the surfer group. They were only a day away, and Jim still hadn't found a solar sail to go with his crude base.   
He slunk into the kitchen, a regular occurence after he had found a half-way decent listener in Mr. Snuff. On that very first day, when it had all gone wrong, he had ranted and raved to the Flatulan chef for an hour and he had listened without so much as a peep, parp or burp. Sure, he was no Long John Silver, but he was someone. And nothing he said would be entered into his permanent psych profile, either.   
"Hey," Jim glanced around, to make sure Snuff was alone. Snuff grinned behind the odd tentacle-mouth of his, saluting Jim with a cascade of flatulan greetings.   
Jim had been reading up on Flatula as part of his Interspacial Lifeform Studies class, and already he had learned to understand a few simple phrases. Mr. Snuff rarely used simple phrases, however, and Jim suspected he was either cursing constantly, or using enormous amounts of slang.   
"Man. Astrophysics is tough, how am I supposed to know the different properties of certain nebulas? Get this, they say I'm _failing_. I've been here a week! I can't be failing! And, can you believe it, I still can't find a solar sail!" Jim sighed, rubbing his forehead. "The try-outs are tomorrow, what am I gonna do?"   
Snuff seemed lost in thought for a moment, before suddenly slapping his suckers together, what Jim supposed was his equivalent of snapping his fingers. He hopped up and down excitedly, gesturing towards the side door that lead to the dining room.   
"Uh... through here?" Jim followed the bouncy chef, who seemed to trying to shush him - although without much effect, as Snuff didn't seem to have much control over the volume of his own voice. They crept through the darkened dining area, and out into a deserted corridor. It felt like they were doing something extremely sneaky, to Jim at least. He was bent low, behind Mr. Snuff who often stuck his left eye around a corner first to check it was clear. At last, they reached a well-bolted door with a sign that read simply 'Equipment'.   
"It's locked," whispered Jim, raising his eyebrows at his partner in crime. Snuff seemed unfazed by the obstacle, and lifted his chef-hat to reveal a set of keys underneath. They were clearly tagged as belonging to the janitor, but Jim didn't dare say anything.   
Inside the closet there were plenty of marked boxes full of blanks for weapons practice and extra rigging for the simulation ships. It wasn't long before they found the box full of solar sails. They were perfect, not like the patchy one Jim had used on Montressor. White with golden nacels woven into them, and with a little modification (they were huge, and likely for battle simulation ships) just right for Jim's surfer. He would have hugged Snuff there and then, had he not known it would have made a noise.   
With hissed thanks, Jim took off for the pitch in the waning light. He had an hour and a half before lights-out, and his damn astrophysics homework could wait! He had a sail to cut and fit. 


	6. Extra, Extra, READ ALL ABOUT IT

**Prologue to an Epilogue**

CHAPTER 6 

**Author's Note:**

Wow, what an absence, eh? CeeCee WOULD go off on holiday at the most crucial moment in our game of the Weakest Link, wouldn't she? Er, I mean. Sorry it's been two weeks since we updated, but here's a few chapters ending with a lovely cliffhanger to keep your pants moist and our copyright lawsuit pending. I'm sure you all feel quite medicated now. BTW, thanks for all the reviews and we just can't wait for your financial contributions to begin arriving by post. 

As bored students filed into the lecture theatre, Doctor Doppler ran again and again over his memorised notes on the processes of active galactic nuclei. The usual nervous anticipation he normally felt before hosting a lesson was absent somehow; he just wasn't excited about science anymore. Instead, as he glanced up at the filling theatre, looking from one yawning face to another, Doppler found himself imagining what else he could possibly be doing.   
His voyage on the _Legacy_ had spoiled him: he had found the adventure he had been searching for, and now life was... well... boring! Except, he had noticed, when the captain was around. Doppler shook his head, forcing himself back to reality. Lectures weren't daring or adventurous, but they were solid and paid well. He was back in the real world now. A buzzer sounded to mark the start of class and every face seemed to turn and stare at Doppler expectantly. Some of the nervousness coming back to him, the doctor cleared his throat and gave a sheepish smile to the room.   
"Well, ah, if we're all here then we'll, ah, just start then."   
He turned to project his name on the wall when the sound of pounding boots echoed throughout the corridor outside. Doppler looked up in time to see Jim practically fall through the doorway, gasping for air. "Sorry I'm la-" the boy began, stopping with an expression of what was almost fear when he caught sight of Doppler. He glanced at the students behind him, then leaned forward and, lowering his voice, asked, "Uh, Mom didn't send you, did she?" Jim had an awful feeling that his mother could just _tell_ when he was doing poorly in school, whether she saw him or not.   
Doppler, beaming at the sight of a familiar face, chuckled quietly. Unfortunately, that was the _only_ thing he did quietly. "No, Jim!" he practically shouted. "But she said to send you her love."   
Jim winced, quickly looking to see if anyone had heard. Doppler, he realised, was wearing a clip-on microphone to allow the entire theatre to hear the lecture. From the sniggers in the back row, Jim assumed the speakers were working fine. Head bent down, Jim ran forward to take a seat before he was humilated any further.   
"You just take a seat right by me, Jim," the doc grinned warmly. "We don't want you missing anything important, do we?" To Jim's horror, he _winked_. "In fact, I can lend you all my notes after the lecture, if you like. I have to give you a few care packages from your mother anyway."   
Jim, open-mouthed, shook his head, trying to get him to stop before he went any further.   
"She seems to think," Doppler laughed, "that she didn't pack enough underwear for you."   
Jim buried his red face in his hands as the stadium behind him erupted into laughter. Doppler looked up, frowning as the entire student body collapsed into hysterics at Jim's expense. "Oh, uh, I, um... the microphone..." He gave Jim a guilty smile and fumbled on with the lecture, leaving Jim to slide down in his seat and search for the black hole which, were there a God, should now appear under his feet. He was suddenly very grateful that Elizabeth wasn't in his year. 

After the doc's travesty of a lecture, Jim was the first to rush out of the room. Not only was he too humilated to stay behind, but he didn't want to miss the start of solar surfer try-outs. He had to know what he and his new board were up against. He had only finished it the night before, and hadn't had enough time to test it out properly. He _had_ been planning on waking up early and taking it to the pitch before breakfast - unfortunately, he had slept in again and had missed breakfast altogether. Now he was missing lunch to go the try-outs. His stomach gave a rumble of complaint, but he knew it would be worth it to make the team. Hell, he would probably sit through another one of the doc's lectures if it meant getting on the team, no matter how often he brought up the subject of underpants.   
The pitch was surprisingly empty when Jim got there - a trail of students stood uncomfortably, some huddled together by themselves and about six others with boards. Very professional, shiny looking boards. Thomas was in a heated argument with one of the board holders, and ignored Jim when he tried to catch his eye.   
"All right, people!" One voice rose above the small chorus of the others, and a willowy older cadet waved his arms as he tried to look as official as possible. "Line up guys, if you're gonna try. Hey, you with the pigtail!"   
Jim frowned, but wiped it off his face quickly as he remembered who it was that had addressed him.   
"You're up first, Hairdo."   
Jim gritted his teeth, arching an eyebrow with technique that would have impressed Captain Amelia. "What am I supposed to do?"   
"Surf." The prefect gestured towards the pitch. "Do something good."   
The instruction was plain, and the crowd had settled expectantly. Jim dropped his patchwork board on the turf, and stepped shakily on to it. He was less nervous when he had crept back to the _Legacy_ on Treasure Planet. Thankfully, it started and with a whoop of released frustration Jim sped off along the pitch.   
He could hear some calls below him about the condition of his board. It probably looked as if it had been made from refuged garbage (and it had) to the kids rich enough to keep up with the latest designer models. He tried to force it all out of his head though, rising as high as he could so he wouldn't be able to hear it. The wind rushed through his hair and slapped his face awake, the familiar feeling bringing a large smile to his face. He was in his element and he knew it. So far, he had driven a simple lap of the pitch, quickly, but nothing to the kids below. But had gained enough speed to let him pull off his next trick with practiced professionalism: he used his body weight to flop backwards over the board, dropping the sail and bringing the body over his head before beginning a helicopter spin to the ground. It was a common trick amongst the professional sportsmen, but few kids could pull it off well. It was somthing that Jim had been teaching himself for a while, and he had just been getting good at it before he left for Treasure Planet. He could hear whoops and cries below him, and he could only imagine how cool he must have looked right then. Grinning, he let himself drop dangerously low. He wasn't going to pull out of this until the last second - that would impress them.   
The whoops were louder now, and louder. Jim judged the distance left as best as he could upside-down and began timing his finishing swoop slowly. His head just metres from the ground, he moved his feet to flip over again. And nothing happened. With a gasp, Jim realised he was dropping to the ground faster than he had intended, and the board, it seemed, was running low. With what was nearly a scream, Jim kicked the board back to life, releasing the solar sail just in time and pulling himself right way up clumsily, in a panic. The action was too slow; the board jammed itself in the soil when kicked back under his feet, stopping suddenly and bucking him to the ground. Sliding with an 'oomph' across the pitch, he didn't want to imagine how far from cool he was looking now. He looked up just in time to see Victoria collapse in fits of laughter in Thomas's arms.   
"Very good, Hairdo," the prefect sneered. "You're the reason we don't let first-years try out anymore."   
Jim could feel himself blushing violently as he pryed the useless board out of the dirt, and rushed off the pitch to a cry of, "Next! Someone who can get out of a simple trick, please?" 

Jim burst into the kitchen, cursing a blue streak as he waved his arms vehemently at Mr. Snuff. Behind him he dragged a sparking energy cylinder feebly clinging to the rusty board. There was a good amount of soil spreading about the place, but hygiene rules don't translate well into Flatulan, and Mr. Snuff was eating most of the mess so quickly anyway that it shouldn't _really_ become a problem...   
As he ranted, Jim found himself pacing around the kitchen. Several times he made large hand-gestures that set off an orchestra of pan clanking or cutlery falling, while Mr. Snuff patiently picked everything up and put it all back in the wrong places. The third time he passed the table, Jim noticed the headline on the newspaper discarded in several pieces all over it. Apparently Mr. Snuff had been gutting _something_ over it. Jim pretended not to notice the intestine stains as he read "SILVER GOES FOR THE GOLD IN THE HOLD - story by Lars Reagle". 

_"Although it has been almost a year since the last reported criminal activity of the legendary cutthroat Long John Silver and his band of pirates, it seems they have come out of retirement. The merchant ship __Titan_ was viciously attacked by a small vessel made specifically for the dash-and-grab style of combat and thievery. The smaller ship wove between the masts, destroying each sail to keep the victims from escaping. This method was Long John Silver's trademark start to a raid, and is said to be based upon the ways of the notorious Nathanial Flint. Witness reports indicate that a large man bearing cyborg implants was at the head of the raid, calling orders from the helm of the helpless ship. The passengers were loaded into the longboat bay after each boat had been jettisoned, and left for dead.   
They were discovered days later by a tourist bus, lost on its route. If chance had not favoured those passengers, would we be examining their remains today? How many more will suffer at the hands of monsters?   
This time, all that was lost was thousands of drubloons' worth of solar crystals. Next time, it could be any one of us.   
If you have any information regarding the apprehension of Long John Silver, or of his whereabouts, we urge you to contact your local authorities." 

Jim could hardly believe his eyes. Silver had left people for dead? Silver had given up all that treasure to save him, there was no way he would... or would he? Jim hated himself for being doubtful. He glanced up at Mr. Snuff, who shrugged as if he hadn't read the article.   
"Do you believe this?" Jim asked, almost accusingly.   
The chef shrugged again, waving a tentacle as he tried to explain to Jim in colourful tones. Jim could guess what he was saying, though. That Silver had done all that before, and he could again with his connections. Jim didn't think that he would though, whether he could or not. That was what was important. Silver _could_ have left Jim to die, but he wouldn't - and hadn't. A frown of fierce determination crossed his face, and he decided what he would do. He was failing almost everything, and the students hated him already. No one would miss him if he only left for a weekend. Mr. Snuff had the keys, and he'd be back before they even knew he was missing. He was going to go and find Silver, and prove to himself and everybody else that his best friend had an alibi for the time when the attack on the _Titan_ took place.   
"Hey, Snuff," Jim grinned. "Know where they keep the longboats?" 


	7. Intercourse again

**Prologue to an Epilogue**

CHAPTER 7 

**Author's Note:**

Wow, what an absence, eh? CeeCee WOULD go off on holiday at the most crucial moment in our game of the Weakest Link, wouldn't she? Er, I mean. Sorry it's been two weeks since we updated, but here's a few chapters ending with a lovely cliffhanger to keep your pants moist and our copyright lawsuit pending. I'm sure you all feel quite medicated now. BTW, thanks for all the reviews and we just can't wait for your financial contributions to begin arriving by post. 

It was Monday. Doppler knew that it was - for once - the moment he peeled his face from the floorboards. Really, he ought to have invested in more furniture in case he suddenly had a huge adventure and a houseful of refugees to deal with, he thought groggily. Sleeping on the floor in a room that was supposedly a study with a blanket, an old mattress (rescued from the attic to save Delilah from attempting to transport a new one) and a pillow he seemed to abuse fitfully in his sleep was bound to take its toll eventually. He glared at the mattress as he reached for his glasses, wondering vaguely how it always escaped from under him. When no answer came, he stumbled downstairs, tying a robe about him as he went and yawning.   
"Good morning, Doctor."   
Doppler jumped, wincing as he clattered his elbow against the banister of the stairs. At the bottom, looking mildly amused, was the captain. Fully dressed, and probably unimpressed by his sleeping habits.   
"Morning! Morning!" sang Morph, filtering down from the above landing with an adoring grin on his protoplasmic features.   
"Uhm..." Doppler paused, wondering what to say. "Did you sleep well, er, Captain?"   
Amelia threw him a sly glance, smirking as she replied, "Intercourse, Doctor," and headed nonchalantly for the kitchen. Doppler's jaw dropped, his mouth dry as Morph unwittingly cried, "INTERCOURSE! INTERCOURSE!" as he followed the captain. She was _mocking_ him! He folded his arms, trying not to blush or scowl (though he managed to do both anyway) as he too headed for the kitchen. 

Amelia chuckled softly as Morph proudly declared, "Intercourse!" for the eighth time, quickly clapping her hand over her mouth as Doppler peered around the door, eyebrows perched high and cheeks bright red.   
Morph burbled to himself, zipping across to the doctor - seemingly determined to prove he had learned a new word to anyone with ears.   
"Intercourse!" the little blob cried expectantly, a mere inch from the end of Doppler's nose.   
"Morph!" Doppler shrieked, making a mad grab for him. Anything to silence the faithful blob.   
"Intercooourse!" taunted Morph as he escaped easily, splitting through Doppler's fingers and leading him in a clumsy chase around the kitchen and over the furniture.   
"Doctor." Amelia sidestepped him once, and again only moments later. "Doctor, please! I really don't think that's necessary - Doctor. Doctor!"   
"In-ter-course!"   
The word echoed around, hitting off the tiles. Morph was no where to be seen - at least, not in his pink form. He continued to chant 'intercourse' from his hiding place, and Doppler sank into a chair at the table - defeated.   
"Tea?" asked Amelia, clearing her throat. Doppler could hardly look her in the eye.   
"Intercourse!"   
"Yes, thank you. TO THE TEA!" The vein in the unfortunate doctor's forehead almost exploded. 

Outside the kitchen door, Sarah Hawkins was having extreme difficulty staying quiet. She had been privy to most of the situation, and couldn't help laughing at poor Delbert's pain. Amelia was obviously toying with him. A bizarre flirtation in cat-and-mouse fashion, and Doppler clearly didn't get it.   
Just as she was positive she was about to snort, Sarah heard Doppler cry, "There he goes!" and mere miliseconds later Morph whizzed by her ear. Delbert thundered after him, meeting Sarah at full speed and the floor at twice that. In the midst of the entanglement, accented by wailed apologies and the word 'intercourse' from the invariably unpunished pet hovering above, the communicator buzzed.   
"I'll get it!" Sarah insisted, trying to bellycrawl away.   
"Oh, wow! Group pile-up!" The words froze Doppler and Sarah as they realised B.E.N. would be joining them. He bounced over the banister, dropping five feet to land square on top of the hapless pair on the floor with numerous clanks, and several awful new words for Morph to repeat.   
The captain, safe in the kitchen, glanced down at the mess.   
"I'll get it, shall I?" she suggested, primly stepping over the mass of arms, legs, nuts and bolts.   
"Doppler residence," Amelia said uncomfortably, holding the receiver to her ear as if it might break.   
There was a short silence on the line before a familiarly raspy voice said, "This is Rhonda Frost seeking Dr. Doppler," in an attempted purr.   
"Unfortunately," Amelia replied truthfully, if a little coldly, "he can't come to the communicator at the moment."   
"Got your claws into him, eh?" Rhonda chuckled lecherously.   
"Excuse me?" Amelia frowned.   
"That would make an interesting story, don't you think? The Captain and the financier shacked up, most of the crew missing, dead or jailed and plenty of hidden treasure the authorities don't know about. Very interesting indeed, Captain." Rhonda's tone leaned precariously towards being threatening.   
"What exactly are you babbling about? Honestly, this isn't a helpline for the factually impaired." Amelia snapped, imagining the tatters of her reputation being crushed to dust.   
"What with Long John Silver's escape," Rhonda continued, unfazed. "Someone might even speculate that you helped to mastermind his explosive return to crime. You do have large amounts of naval battle experience, do you not?"   
What was she talking about? Curse Doppler for not remembering to buy newspapers!   
"I should think you'll find it quite difficult to find evidence supporting all this." Amelia glared at the blinking amber light that indicated the comm. was connected.   
"You'd be surprised." The line fizzed, and went dead.   
What had just happened? Amelia didn't want to think about what might happen _now_. Rhonda Frost was all talk.   
As Doppler and Sarah managed to disentangle themselves from B.E.N. and hastily make their way towards Amelia, the communicator buzzed again. She sighed a hiss as she ripped the receiver from its rest pad after only a few seconds of noise. This time, Amelia abandoned politeness: she may not have understood what that insensible reporter was talking about, but she could recognize a threat when she saw one. "I don't much care for your telephone manner, you relentless sack of verbal diarrhoea."   
Simultaneously, Sarah and Doppler dropped their jaws. "I don't think I care much for yours, either," Doppler hissed, trying to grab the communicator from Amelia, but she swatted him away, intent on making her point. "You, dear woman, are testament, _living proof_ that manure can sprout legs and talk! If you dare to call back, I will personally-"   
Suddenly, she stopped dead, eyes widening. Doppler even thought he saw the traces of a blush on her cheeks. She cleared her throat. "Professor McFadyen, lovely to hear from you, how do you do?" She examined her nails to avoid the doctor's now furious gaze. Suddenly, she sounded curious and even a little worried. "No, he's not here."   
Doppler, giving up all hope of ever knowing what was going on, stood with his hands on his hips, angrily examining Amelia. She was now looking through her nails, a dark look falling over her features. Suddenly, her head snapped up and she stared straight at Sarah for a long, unnerving moment. Complete silence overtook the room.   
"Yes, thank you for calling," she sighed, and slowly placed the receiver onto the pad. A shorter silence followed as Amelia tried to find a place to look. "It seems," she sighed, "that your son has gone missing." 


	8. In Search of Silver

**Prologue to an Epilogue**

CHAPTER 8 

Jim Hawkins, the boy who had gone to Treasure Planet, built a solar surfer when he was eight, and been accepted into the Interstellar Academy on _failing_ grades, hardly expected to be where he was at that exact moment. And Interstellar Travel Scrabble was nearly impossible to play with a Flatulan.   
"Ugh, did you have to bring this stupid game?" Jim spat, frowning at Snuff's word. He had been staring at it for the past fifteen minutes, trying to place the word into a language. Jim had never seen it before, but it had no vowels in it and the letter X appeared _twice_.   
For an entire weekend they had been stuck together with nothing to do in a longboat, stolen expertly (well, almost) from the academy. Eye Spy had gotten old very quickly, and Mr. Snuff was most unhappy about chasing comets in the longboat. Well, Jim assumed it was displeasure he had been expressing when he waved his tentacles and spat all over his companion, squelching in Flatulan at the top of his lungs. Either way, Jim hadn't attempted it since.   
"We're officially out of rations," he groaned, looking into what had once been a half-full barrel of purps. Hearing this, Snuff sat bolt upright from where he had been dozing. Jim tried not to think about the fact that Snuff had been steering while he was asleep as the Flatulan barged his way towards the barrel and nearly knocked the unfortunate teenager clean overboard in the process.   
He tipped the empty barrel towards Jim, declaring _something_ with disgust.   
"You're...right?" guessed Jim, quickly snatching the controls as their trajectory began to drift. Trying to explain his point, Snuff pointed towards a faint blob in the distance, hopping up and down to express his anxiety.   
"A planet?" Jim frowned, wondering if they should stop. Yes, he decided, they needed food... and a half a clue about where Silver was. He had been considering, in the long silences between he and his travel-companion, that perhaps in retrospect this trip was too ridiculous, too pointless, even for him. After what felt like weeks stuck alone with Mr. Snuff, the solar surfing try-outs seemed dusty and faded memories, and Jim imagined he had been too eager to leave after his humiliation. But what had he been thinking, leaving school for days on end to play board games with a Flatulan? He didn't even know where they were, never mind where to find Silver. Their chances, he was beginning to realise, were slimmer than he had managed to convince himself.   
With a nod to Snuff, Jim resolved to get to the planet, find a communicator and beg for a lift back to the Academy. With any luck, B.E.N. would pick up at home. 

A sharp etherium wind sliced through the thin material of John Silver's coat and made teasing attempts to grab away the hat he was using to cover his face. The wind, to Silver, always seemed to blow colder on Phoenicus; the sun never shone there.   
Already, after only two raids (and fifty newspaper articles covering them), the stores lining the small spaceport each proudly displayed a wanted poster listing his crimes. Silver smiled bitterly as he stopped to survey one. It was obviously an old holopicture - he had fewer cyborg implants and was slimmer around the chin - but he hadn't changed enough that they wouldn't recognise him. He pulled the hat further down with his good hand and walked on.   
People of every possible alien race were pushing and barging their way through the busy streets. It was an easy place to get lost in, but Silver's size made him stand out from the crowd; he was a suspicious figure, but he couldn't do anything about it. He had bought oversized clothes to cover his mechanical parts. A large trenchcoat covered all of his cyborg arm if he pushed his hand deep into the pocket, and long trousers fell down past his cyborg knee, but the mechanical foot which poked out of them was enough to raise some eyebrows. He hated Phoenicus, he remembered, he always had. It was too crowded with suspicious fools to make way for any decent pubs. But after the attacks and the outrageous coverage, he had thought it better to lie low for a while, someplace no one would think of right away.   
The inn his connections had set up for him was directly across from one of the docks. He stopped stiffly, staring at it for a long moment. That very dock had been firmly burned into his memory for over thirty years, the tradegy that had happened there...   
He _hated_ Phoenicus. Silver swallowed hard and walked towards the inn. 

The ship Jack had managed to get them hired on was called _The Avenger_, a pirate ship John guessed from the look of the crew. To John, it was already crowded with far more people than it could possibly fit. He imagined them all being squashed together tightly, like Newronian Fishbriks, packed in so neatly there was no one left on Phoenicus at all, and they all had to sleep standing up because movement itself was impossible. He hated it, at first. Aliens of every race and size were fighting their way across the ship, shoving and slicing their way across the deck and not caring who they knocked over. The faces were different, but the expression was the same: emotionless, fearless, and cruel. Something glinted in their hard eyes that John didn't then recognize, but it clouded the eyes of every pirate and would eventually blind John too; a kind of ruthless greed that blocks out everything else. John would soon discover that everyone on that ship only looked out for himself, and he would have to, too.   
Holding firmly onto his wrist to stop him from getting into any more trouble, Jack kicked and shoved his way through the crowd and finally into the galley downstairs. They had all been instructed to wait there while the captain called them up one by one to get their names and assign a job to them, then they would be sent to their post and would ready everything for the launch. John gathered from the hissing and muttering all around him that this system was unorthodox, even a little suspicious, and nobody appreciated this kind of invasion.   
A little harder than he meant to, Jack threw John towards one of the benches and ordered him to stay put while he tried to get in with some of the crew. "It's all about who you know," Jack had said with a grimace. "Always remember that."   
John couldn't stop his hands from trembling as he looked around the room. For the first time in his life, he felt small.   
Behind him, two Arcadians with hard, scarred faces were talking about the strange new captain. Nobody, it seemed, had heard of him or knew of his record. No pirate had ever heard of the captain Kidd. One of the Arcadians, in a conspiring whisper, thought he may have changed his name after some big foul-up so nobody would recognize him. They planned to do the same thing.   
"I'll calls meself Black Dog," one Arcadian told the other, "so he cansn't c'nnect me with the jobs in Belcodda - just in case."   
"I'll telds him I'm an eng'neer," his partner replied. "So he don't hear nothin' about them rigger jobs."   
John gazed around the room in what was almost awe. This was to be his life now, among Black Dogs and criminal riggers. He was a pirate. He was going to have adventures across the great etherium, go places he never thought he could go, find riches beyond his wildest desires. He didn't know if he was miserable or ecstatic. Everything had happened so quickly that it didn't seem real somehow, it was some kind of strange dream.   
Standing on shaking legs, John pushed his way through the crowded galley to find Jack, to prove to himself that this was all really happening.   
His brother stood at the back of the galley, part of a small group gathered around a trio of mean card-players seated at the end bench. Each bluffed a poker-face, but among pirates, there are other ways of knowing what your opponent is up to. Jack, John realised, was slowly working his way around the table, glancing at the cards each player held and giving a small nod or shake of the head to a creature at the head of the table. John didn't recognise what race the man was - he wasn't certain he really wanted to know either - but he had never seen anything so evil-looking. A hard outer shell ran across his entire body, ending in six long thin legs which stuck out of his sides like needles in a pin-cushion. He sat on the bench at a peculiar angle as if he weren't quite used to sitting. His body was better accustomed to running, climbing walls. John swallowed. Or attacking prey.   
Instead of arms, the creature carried two long pincers, carved as delicately and sharply as knives, and probably just as dangerous. But it was his eyes which scared John the most: large, yellow, and constantly grinning. They seemed to leer at Jack as he signalled to him what each player held. He gave a smile and pushed forward a pile of drubloons with one of his cruel claws. His voice was a hiss as he spoke, the words themselves only whispers: "I'll raise ya twenty."   
One of the players heaved a sigh, throwing his cards onto the table and storming away into the crowd. The other remained, looking the spider-creature in his souless yellow eyes for only a second before glancing away. "I think you're bluffing."   
The spider gave only a slow grin, showing off his series of small, sharp teeth. The other player pushed his own drubloons forward and spread his hand over the table. "Flush," he grunted, glancing up at the spider again nervously.   
The creature paused for a long moment, that eerie smile playing over his lips. John noticed it grew wider as he looked to Jack, as if in thanks. He lay his own cards down slowly, savouring the moment. "Straight flush."   
There were a few jeers from the crowd behind them as the spider gathered up his winnings and the other, defeated, slinked away, grumbling to himself. Slowly, the disappointed crowd began to disperse, and Jack approached the spider with slow, confident steps. John could never understand his brother's confidence; just looking at the creature, John was afraid, but here was his brother actually talking to him - or it.   
Arms folded, Jack stared at the spider for a long moment while he counted the money, cackling softly to himself. Finally he glanced at Jack, but only for a moment, drawing the money towards his chest protectively, turning to walk-away.   
"Hey!" Jack darted forward, grabbing the creature by his pincer to stop him. Angrily, the creature turned on him. John gasped as the creature leered at his brother, stretching to his full height to intimidate him before batting his hand away easily.   
Jack returned the glare coolly, calmly. "Don't I get a cut for helping you?"   
There was a long tense silence as Jack and the creature glared at one another. John realised he was holding his breath, looking between them with large, frightened eyes. It was impossible to guess the spider's age, but he stood two heads taller than Jack at his full height, and those pincers...   
Slowly, the creature relaxed, spreading his weight over all of his legs so he and Jack came to the same height. He eyed Jack warily, and shook his head. "I can give you sssomething better than money," he whispered. "I can give you advissssssse."   
When Jack didn't answer, the spider went on. "On thisss ssship, it'sss bessst to keep quiet about yourssself. There hasss been talk about the captain. When he asssksss your name," the spider grinned his eerie grin again, "lie."   
Jack sighed, clearly disappointed. The spider, still smiling at him, added, "Thanksss, by the way," but Jack only nodded. They looked at one another again, this time both smiling a little at the lips. "I'm Sssscroop," the spider said finally, offering his pincer to Jack. Jack nodded in recognition, but moved his hands to his pockets rather than shake the claw. "Jack." 

It seemed almost a cruel irony, Jim thought errantly as they approached the spaceport of the planet, that he had missed his beginners class in Communication Etiquette and Protocol for Communicating with Other Vessels and Spacers. It had sounded so boring - but now he really hadn't a clue what to say to the chirpy female voice which had called out to them over a small comm. in the longboat Jim hadn't even known was there.   
"How long do you intend to stay?" she asked, her patience clearly tried by Jim's constant answers of "I dunno...".   
"Do you speak Flatulan?" Jim asked warily, fully aware that he was clutching at straws. "My, uh, _Captain_ doesn't speak English at all - you should talk to him."   
"No, sir, I do not speak Flatulan - if you could hold again, I can fetch someone who _does_?"   
"No! Please, don't put me on hold again! We'll be here, like a _day_, okay?" Jim sighed heavily into the communicator, trying to think of a convincing excuse to get into the spaceport. He looked to 'Captain' Snuff for help, but the Flatulan wasn't paying any attention to the conversation, replacing Scrabble letters from his waistcoat pockets into their box. "Our ship is... er, going to meet with us across the way," he improvised quickly , crossing his fingers.   
"Well, come around to port seventeen - small vessels court. Upper level. Thank you for your business, enjoy your time on Knealisia." Her tone was clipped and before Jim could think to thank her politely or even say goodbye, she had hung up.   
"Geez. Port seventeen... upper," he repeated angrily, searching for the right way. With nothing sign posted and Snuff silent, Jim eventually had to follow the other small transports around the spaceport and then count in from the left seventeen spaces. They were on the far end. Jim heaved another sigh and began steering in the longboat. So ended his grand adventures, he thought miserably as they docked the boat. So ended any hope of seeing Silver again. 

John swallowed the growing lump in his throat as he entered the captain's quarters. He didn't know quite what to expect from the look of some of the crew, men he would be uneasy passing on the street, never mind eating and sleeping alongside, but he had imagined the captain might be some kind of shifty looking pirate covered in stolen clothes and old battle scars from his raids. He had even pictured an eye-patch and maybe a fake leg. Instead, the man behind the finely crafted furlwood desk was a human, maybe in his late forties, dressed in a fine tailor-fitted uniform and which would have served an admiral. His dark hair was tied smoothly back at the nape of his pale neck, and a thin moustache was trimmed neatly under a straight, pointed nose. He looked as though he belonged at the head of the Queen's Armada, rather than the head of a criminal crew.   
The captain's head shot up from his desk as he heard John approach, his face twisted into an expression of fury. "Blast it, boy!" he shouted, fixing John with a cold hard glare. "While your on this ship, you knock the bleedin' door before ya come in, ya hear? Did ya ever think that's what it might be there for? Ta keep nosy little whelps like you from just waltzin' in any time of day an' intrusin' on me own private business!"   
John moved his stare to the floor sheepishly, muttering a reluctant apology under his breath. Great, he thought angrily, his first day aboard the ship and he'd already messed up. Clearing his throat, the captain glanced him over quickly before shifting his attention back to a pile of papers scrolled across his desk. The noise of pen scratching over paper filled the room as the captain's attention became absorbed once more in whatever he was writing, ignoring John completely. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, staring around the room with a feeling of growing embarassment. The silence was now becoming tense. Gellarian butterflies rising in his stomach, John went over what his brother had told him to say in his head for the final time, rehearsing the lies so they would sound natural on his nervous lips.   
"He doesn't know you're as young as you are, so don't mention your age if you can help it," Jack had warned. "Make up some ship names if he asks you for experience. And may the heavens help you if you tell him we're related! I don't want no one on this boat to know, or I'll be hearin' all about your muck-ups! Make up a name, like Scroop told ya, but for mercy's sake not the same as mine!"   
The captain still had not looked in John's direction, his distant eyes set firmly on the page in front of him. John moved a step closer to the desk, trying to catch his attention. "Captain Kidd?"   
"Age," the captain said in response, the word more a statement than a question. His eyes were still locked onto his papers, writing as he spoke. Caught offguard, John gave a long "uhm" before answering.   
"Twenty."   
"Experience."   
"Uhm, the ship... Hispania."   
"Position."   
John stopped, his routine thrown off by the unexpected question. "What?"   
Kidd stopped writing to look at John under his fringe of hair. His eyes now gleamed with suspicion. "What position did you hold on the ship Hispania?" he asked, pronouncing each word pointedly. "Rigger? Navigator?" He examined John's bulk and added, "Cabin boy?" with a cruel laugh.   
"Oh, yeah!" John said quickly, in an attempt to recover. "I was an, uh... cabin boy."   
Kidd glanced him over for a few long moments before giving an "hm" and returning to his notes. "As you are so _experienced_, you'll be the cabin boy of this ship. You will answer directly to me. Unless given instruction from me and only me, yer only duty is ta swab the deck spotless every morning at five a.m., then again at ten p.m., an' keep the ship in good knack. That means you're also ta see ta the longboat, keep the ship clear of barnacles, help with kitchen duties, and do whatever else I tell ya. Understand?" Kidd stopped writing to look at John, making sure he understood all of this. "What's yer name, boy?"   
John grinned despite himself as he remembered the name he had chosen. He and Jack had decided upon their names together, agreeing that they would leave their parents' name entirely, but keep their own first names. Jack had said John would probably muck-up otherwise, call him by his real name in front of one of the pirates and cause some suspicion.   
Scroop had suggested they use nicknames nobody would question, so their real identities needn't be known. Jack would become "Black Jack", which John believed was probably after his love for gambling. Since Scroop was listening, Jack had insisted it was after his black heart; John wasn't mean enough to be black, no pirate would believe it.   
"You're more of a grey, Johnnie," Jack had laughed roughly, "not quite good, but on a pirate ship anyway."   
John had thought of using something about his height, something obvious - like 'Tall John' maybe. Before it was John's turn to be interviewed, they had come to a perfect compromise.   
John beamed at the captain. "I'm Long John Silver." 

It was only after he had docked the longboat that Jim had a chance to really take in Knealisia.   
The only spaceport Jim had ever seen was Crescentia, one of the smaller ports serving only a few planets of the Empire, and that had been enough to blow his mind. It had seemed huge and full of life and ships and people, busy and bustling and exciting. Now, as he pushed his way through the throbbing crowds, Jim realised that Knealisia was at least twice its size and twice as intimidating.   
Jim stood, open-mouthed, drinking in the bustle and life of the spaceport: it was a shock to his senses, having spent so much of his life stuck into the quiet little planet of Montressor. Crescentia had been a relief, the Academy had been a surprise, but nothing had readied him for this. And after so long with Snuff as his only companion, the sound of voices - English-speaking voices! - was comforting to his ears. After a weekend on nothing but old purps, the smell of cooking food was enticing, intoxicating. Spell-bound in the excitement of the spaceport, Jim blocked out Mr. Snuff's wild chatter behind him as he tried to draw his attention to something.   
Jim realised with a sigh that the moment he called home, he would be reeled back into the Academy and probably put under some kind of probation. Not to mention what his mother would say - or the captain. It would be a long time before he got out again. He wanted to enjoy it, to savour it.   
Eventually, the frustrated Flatulan leaned forward, placing his moist tentacles against Jim's ear without his companion even noticing. With Snuff's loud, wet rasp, Jim snapped back to reality.   
"Ew, what did you do _that_ for?" Jim groaned, wiping his cheek with the sleeve of his jacket. "I _know_ what you said, man!"   
Snuff began talking again, too quickly for Jim to pick up any phrases. Trying to decipher the message, Jim turned to see what the pirate was pointing at. Grinning at them from the window of a nearby building was Long John Silver. 


	9. Grand Theft Nautical

**Prologue to an Epilogue**

CHAPTER 9 

Author's Note: Well, it's been months, hasn't it? Still, we have a huge Amelia and Doppler filled update for you now. Chapter nine was actually so long we had to break it into two, so none of yer whining ;). Thanks to Vik for his inadvertent input, even though we currently can't remember what it was he input inadvertently. Surely he'll know. 

Part I 

Dr. Doppler peeled his head away from the kitchen table and raised his eyes wearily. The last thing he recalled was B.E.N. whole-heartedly sharing his life history with Captain Flint, jovially explaining that most missing persons were actually overboard or drunk in the galley. Finally, the Captain had dragged him into the next room and explained the situation to him properly - if a little bluntly. Now the kitchen was grey with morning light, and the lamp had gone out. He felt guilty for falling asleep the moment he realised that Sarah Hawkins, sitting still in the same spot she had been the night before, was still awake.   
"What time is it?" Doppler asked her hoarsely.   
"Tuesday," she replied, bloodshot eyes staring at the silent communicator which had been yanked into the kitchen so everyone could watch it impatiently.   
"No news?" he tried, clearing his throat.   
"No," Sarah answered quickly, ignoring Morph who changed briefly into a miniature version of Jim in his position at the nape of Sarah's neck.   
"We'll hear from them soon, Sarah," Doppler reassured, patting her shoulder. "Uhm... Where is -"   
"With B.E.N.."   
"Oh. I see," Doppler paused, finally deciding to find Amelia and get her into the kitchen so they could all throw back some caffeine and start the slog all over again. "I won't be a moment," he promised Sarah as he sided around her chair and scuffed out of the kitchen in his oversized slippers. 

  
"_Really_?" Amelia's voice sounded almost slurred, thought Doppler as he approached the sitting room door. It was ajar, and a yellow pool of light spilled out from the crack.   
"Yes, he _did_!" B.E.N. cried, clearly in the middle of some ridiculous tale with no beginning or end, only relentless noise.   
The garbled story seemed to be concerned with life on Treasure Planet, Doppler realised, as he pushed the door open.   
He was almost tempted to find his camera, but fascination kept him from going to fetch it. B.E.N., looking most self-important, was perched in a large armchair by the fire. Amelia was asleep on the rug, although every time B.E.N. paused she seemed to stir, and reply with one of a variety of polite responses and hand gestures.   
"Hey Doc!" B.E.N. cried, hopping down from the chair. "Cap'n Amelia's asleep there, but I'm NOT ONE TO TURN DOWN A CONVERSATION!!"   
"Shh!" Doppler pressed his fingers to his lips, nodding silent praise towards B.E.N., who clamped his mouth shut with his fingers. He whispered to the robot, who listened intently. "Go into the kitchen, I think... er, Sarah wanted you. Don't wake the captain!"   
"I am awake," Amelia murmured insistently, though she clearly wasn't, as B.E.N. crept out of the room.   
"I see," Doppler leaned down, crouching as close to the floor as he could. Intercourse, eh? Revenge was a dish best served early, or so he thought. "Captain?" he whispered, staring down his nose at her.   
"Hmm?"   
He paused, for effect mostly, and then said simply, with his volume raised, "Intercourse?"   
Her eyes fluttered open and she jumped at the unexpected sight of Doppler looming above her. "_What...?_"   
For that moment, Doppler didn't care that she could see clearly up his nose. The look of confusion on her face was priceless, though it was quickly replaced with a sharper look of suspicion as her mind cleared.   
"Well," Doppler began slowly, biting the insides of his mouth to keep from grinning. "I was just going to suggest..."   
Amelia raised an eyebrow as the corners of Doppler's mouth pulled back into an innocent smile. "...breakfast," he finished, looking awfully proud of himself as he backed away.   
"Tell me, Doctor, do you often make a habit of creeping up on your guests while they're asleep?" Amelia asked pointedly, as she stood up. She stretched stiffly and straightened her clothes as she followed a few paces behind Doppler to the door.   
"Of course not," Doppler replied. "You insisted you were awake, Captain."   
"I see," Amelia paused, realizing it _still_ didn't add up, particularly.   
"I must say," Doppler interjected quickly. "I didn't think you were a sleep-talker, Captain."   
She chuckled, shaking her head. "Got to get through those long Navy board meetings somehow, you know." 

  
"Hello?" Sarah Hawkins had finally cracked. Her resolve to wait for the robo-constables to contact her had disintegrated the very moment B.E.N. had reappeared in the kitchen, asking if Jimmy had called. "My name is Sarah Hawkins. My son was reported missing yesterday, and I wondered if..."   
"I'm sorry, ma'am," the harried voice on the other end replied. "There's been a break-out from the Montressor Jail. All available units have been dispatched to deal with it - and your case is no longer priority."   
"No longer...!" Sarah choked, hardly aware of the words she was sobbing down the line. "My son is sixteen years old, and he's lost in the etherium by himself somewhere! He could already be... who knows what he's going through? How can you tell me that he's not your priority?" She stopped, gasping for breath to steady herself, to stop herself from collapsing into tears right then.   
"Please hold, ma'am," the voice asked quietly, no indication that it had heard a word she had said. "We must field incoming calls about escapee sightings. Someone will be with you the moment they are available."   
There was a click and crackling music began to play through the communicator. With a loud sigh, Sarah began to wring her hands. They weren't even looking for Jim now - even if they saw him, would he be priority then?   
She found herself biting hard on her nails, a nervous action she had thought she had given up years ago. Quickly, she pulled her hands from her face and began to fidget with the edges of her dress, smoothing down the wrinkles and tugging at the loose ends of thread. She had been awake all night, but it seemed she had never before had so much useless energy. The thought that Jim was out _there_ somewhere, alone, penniless, hungry, scared... Her stomach fluttered and rose in an aching crescendo of nervous excitement. Quickly, she forced the thought from her mind, convinced that she would soon worry herself sick if she carried on thinking that way. They would find him. They _had_ to find him.   
Sarah couldn't remember the last time she had felt so worried. She had been concerned, she remembered, when he had wanted to go to Treasure Planet, fretting and fussing and certain that something awful would happen to him along the way. She had lived her whole life on Montressor, and rarely visited the nearby planets of the Empire. It was familiar to her, comfortable and safe. The idea of her only son going off into the open etherium, to an uncharted planet... But knowing that Delbert, a man she would trust with her own life, was going with him had offered her solace. And knowing that a team of trained professionals (or so she had thought) would be there gave her assurance. After so many months of hearing nothing every day, it was the only thought that stopped her from taking a ship out and going after him herself. But now... knowing he had nothing... no one...   
A noise woke her from her thoughts and she glanced up quickly, hopefully, as if she expected Jim himself to be standing at the door. Instead, only Doppler stood there.   
"Sarah?" He moved into the room and slipped into a chair beside her as the captain took up a sentry position in the doorway where he had been standing.   
"They... they aren't looking for Jim," Sarah sighed, trying to keep the overwhelming emotion out of her voice as she clicked the communicator off. "They have better things to do, it seems. They said some prisoners escaped."   
"Oh... well, I'm sure they'll manage..." Doppler offered weakly.   
"What if managing isn't good enough, Delbert?" Sarah growled sharply. "They might bring home his dead _body_!" She closed her eyes to keep the tears that image conjured from falling out. "I've had it, Delbert, I really have. I'm going out to look for him."   
"What?" Amelia interrupted. "You're not seriously considering going off into space by yourself, are you?"   
"I've made my mind up!" Sarah declared loudly, nodding as if trying to convince herself of the action. "I'm sure there are plenty of nice spacers on Crescentia who would take me..."   
She began pacing across the kitchen floor to keep herself from shaking, her arms folded firmly across her chest. Fear and excitement were already gnawing at her insides, warning her that it would be a lot less simple than she was forcing herself to believe. Behind her, Doppler and Amelia shared a long look of semi-disdain. Clearly the idea of Sarah hitchhiking her way around the galaxy didn't appeal to either of them.   
Before either could think of a convincing argument to put her off the trip, B.E.N. jumped into the conversation, crying happilly, "I'll navigate!"   
"No!" both shouted at once, causing B.E.N. to fold his arms in offense, his eyes little more than blue slits. "I AM a navigator, after all!" he added, trying his best to pout.   
"Look," Amelia began carefully, choosing to ignore B.E.N., "you've never really left Montressor before, have you?"   
"Well, no," Sarah admitted, glancing between them defiantly. "But I have to start somewhere!"   
"Er... but... but what about the Benbow Inn?" Doppler asked quickly, hardly noticing the glare of annoyance Amelia shot him. "You can't leave - construction there is, is critical!"   
"It's far too dangerous," Amelia cut in smoothly, holding up her hand to silence B.E.N.. "Considering the last spacers that... _we_ hired from Crescentia, I should think that doing so again would be foolish."   
Sarah drew a breath to argue back, but before she could get out the words, Doppler's voice cut in loudly: "We'll go!"   
The argument ground to a halt and a long silence filled the room as everyone froze, trying to absorb the strength of Doppler's words. Sarah stopped, turning to smile at him with wide childish eyes; Amelia twisted around to glare at him, her own eyes burning with anger. She was the first to break the silence, hissing quietly in a tone of disbelief, giving a slow emphasis to each word, "Excuse me?"   
"I'll hire another ship - er, a smaller one, perhaps," he began, desperate to find a logical way to make it work. "I have good credit, after all... I could miss one or two mortgage payments, and..." He was aware that he was rambling, speaking every thought as it came to him as he tried desperately to rework his financial position. While he earned enough to live in a large house, he had blown most of his savings trying to get to Treasure Planet.   
"Don't be daft," Amelia groaned. "We're _both_ on probation, Doctor. Going beyond the spaceport is expressly forbidden. You're being utterly ridiculous - and what crew would take a job sailing around aimlessly for an undetermined amount of time? We can hardly afford another voyage so soon, anyway."   
"Well, perhaps if you weren't so expensive things would be different!" Doppler spluttered, jumping up from the table.   
"It's hardly my fault that you didn't think to barter, Doctor," Amelia replied smugly.   
"You _feline_-"   
"Stop it, both of you!" Sarah cried, the tears she had held back finally falling down her cheeks like scars. "We have to do _something_!"   
The three of them shared a long look; even Morph seemed to be holding his breath.   
"We might find Long John Silver, if we did go, Captain," Doppler said at last, trying not to sound hopeful. "And it's been so long since you've been on a ship..."   
"And _I_ could navigate!" B.E.N. offered again. "Oh, please!"   
At once, they all turned to look imploringly at the captain, as if resting the entire decision upon her. With a tut, she glanced away, turning her own gaze to the floor. Just what she needed right then. The whole idea was ludicrous, she knew, and shouldn't even be considered, but saying so with tact enough so not to hurt Sarah's somewhat frazzled emotions... Amelia sighed heavily, seeming to contemplate their options.   
"I don't see how we can do it," she said finally, giving each word the weight which comes with consideration. "The _Legacy_ is still impounded, and hiring a crew would draw attention to the fact that we're blatantly breaking probation."   
"But... you would, if you could?" Sarah asked, sinking her teeth into her lower lip. Her eyes were cloudy behind a veil of fresh tears as she spoke, her voice quivering beneath her emotion.   
Amelia winced. "Well, yes," she replied, in what was almost a tone of sympathy. "But we can't."   
"Wait!" Doppler cried, slamming his fist down hard on to the table. "Ow! Er, I think I just might have an idea!"   
"Really?" Sarah smiled hopefully.   
"_Really_?" Amelia sounded more skeptical.   
Doppler cleared his throat as he tried to put his thoughts into order, wondering how to begin. Before he could take a breath to voice his idea, B.E.N. bounded over to him excitedly, crying, "Do I get to navigate, Doc? Do I?"   
Doppler sighed. "B.E.N.! Could you..." he paused, trying to think of a believable excuse to get him out of the room. His impatience at the rowdy robot was hardly contained within his tone as he asked sharply, "Feed Delilah for me? Take Morph. But, er, don't let Delilah eat him!"   
"Roger that, Doc!" B.E.N. agreed, saluting, and clanked noisily out of the kitchen. Morph followed with trepidation, keeping a safe distance from the robot and glaring daggers at the doctor as he went. Doppler settled himself back into the chair, taking a long moment to get comfortable before making sure he had the undivided attention of both the captain and Sarah before he began.   
"All right, Sarah - did you say there had been a... er, a break-out recently?" he asked, choosing to ignore Amelia's questioning gaze.   
"Yes, I did," she sighed indignantly. They said Jim wasn't a _priority_ until they'd caught the prisoners who escaped!"   
Doppler allowed himself a smile as he continued, stroking his chin as he was stroking his ego. "Well, perhaps if all non-urgent cases are currently on the back-burner, so to speak, then they'll have, er, stopped work on the _Legacy_." He turned to direct these words specifically at the captain. Both knew that the police had been stripping the ship to search for illegal transportation devices, mistakenly convinced that they had used some kind of black-market alien technology to reappear at Crescentia spaceport. But if a case big enough to postpone the search of a missing child had cropped up, then it would hopefully be big enough to postpone a search for illegal technology, too.   
Though, since the ship had been in custody for weeks now, there was a good chance she had been stripped down to the essentials - she might not even fly now. Still, it was the only idea he had, and Sarah was already perking up at the mention of it. The captain, however, would be more difficult to convince.   
"What exactly are you getting at, Doctor?" Amelia asked acridly, one eyebrow fixed high above the other.   
"Well," Doppler bit his lip. "I'm merely suggesting that our ship problems could, er, be overcome. That's all. They may not even notice that it's gone..."   
"Are you saying we ought to steal a ship?" Amelia shook her head, feeling no need to hide her look of obvious disgust. "You've gone completely mad, Doctor!"   
"It's not stealing!" Doppler argued. "It's your ship, Captain, and the probation officer won't be back for weeks!"   
"Hawkins is probably playing some ludicrous initiation prank," she hissed defensively, her ears flattening against her head. She clearly wasn't going for this idea as well as he would have hoped. Doppler moved to counter this with another argument he hadn't yet thought out, but Sarah cut in quickly before he could get himself into another fight with the captain. "But what if he isn't?" Sarah's voice was wavering. "You said yourself that he and this Silver character seemed to get along, and - have you seen the news?"   
"And now," Doppler added solemnly, "a break-out from the very jail where his crew were being held!" He looked pointedly to the captain, who gave only a stubborn sniff.   
"Perhaps we ought to go to the police with this information."   
"Captain," Doppler tried softly, "do you _really_ want to be associated with Long John Silver while you're on probation?" He gulped once the words were out, resisting the urge to cross his fingers. In order to go through with this plan, he really would need the captain to go along with it. He had never planned to play the hero and go after Jim, although the idea _was_ becoming exciting, but from the look of relief that had come suddenly across Sarah's face when he had made the wild offer, he knew it was the right thing to do. Jim had put Sarah through more than her share of troubles; she was scarcely thirty, but her face had been made old with years of worry and her hair was turning grey at the roots. He knew that anything he could do to make things easier on her would be worth the bother it put him through. Also, although Doppler refused to admit it to himself, a part of him was seeking to impress Captain Amelia by playing the vigilante.   
Breaking the long pause, Amelia asked finally with a sigh, "And if we get caught?"   
"I'll say I kidnapped you... and... and... Or perhaps I have an evil twin!" Doppler smiled weakly, unsuccessfully trying to lighten the conversation.   
"Right. So what you're _telling_ me, Doctor, is that I'm going to jail?" Amelia smirked. "At least one of us could plead insanity."   
"Delbert?" Sarah broke in politely, dropping her hand on to his arm. "Perhaps you could leave us alone for a moment... I'd like to talk to the captain myself."   
"All right," Doppler agreed, although his tone lent itself to the idea that Sarah was off her trolley. "I'll be outside, with B.E.N. and, er," he smiled, "hopefully Morph."   
Eyes fixed on Delbert, Sarah waited until he had walked through the door and far down the hallway before turning to face Amelia. Her eyes were wide and pleading, still trembling with tears which threatened to spill once more down her cheeks. "Captain, I know it's a lot to ask - I mean, we've known one another for what, five weeks?" She forced a hollow laugh which the captain did not return. She stopped, blushing, and cleared her throat. "I wouldn't ask you to go after Jim," Sarah continued, knowing full well that it was only a half-truth, "but Delbert will go even if you _don't_! I know, I told him not to go chasing silly legends months ago, and, well, you know the rest."   
"I'm not sure I see what you're getting at," Amelia admitted, staring at the claw she was tapping against the wooden table next to her.   
"You can't tell me he didn't fall over his own feet _at least_ three times on that ship!" Sarah cried. "He has no sailing experience, and I don't think he could even hang a solar sail. And, tell me right now, Captain, if you can see Delbert breaking into an impound lot by himself and escaping with an entire ship unnoticed!"   
Amelia chuckled, shaking her head at the thought. "Perhaps not unnoticed, no."   
"I don't want to lose him and Jim both," Sarah sighed, resting her chin on her fist. "At least if you go, I'll get one back for sure."   
Amelia seemed to consider this, her ears flicking to and fro as her eyes furiously studied the kitchen table.   
"Besides," Sarah added, before she could give an answer, "he'll be gone for months. Er, in your ship! If it's not ruined by now, it will be by then! Please, Captain?"   
Amelia let out a long sigh and shook her head, more in disbelief of herself than at the request. "Oh, all right."   
Hawkins was going to be scrubbing decks for months. 

  
"Doctor, is this _really_ necessary?" Amelia asked, watching with disbelief as he grabbed a tub of boot polish and smeared it across his face.   
"It's important to remain incognito, Captain!" he said, grinning. There was a glint in his eye Amelia was sure she had seen before, on Treasure Planet somewhere.   
"I know exactly who you are," Amelia countered, "and you look like a twit."   
He chuckled softly. "Oh, I only _look_ like a twit? I'll take that as a compliment, Captain."   
Amelia rolled her eyes. How _anyone_ could be in such a good mood in this, the dead of night, in what must be the smelliest bullyadous stable in all of the etherium, knowing full well the concequences of what they were about to do was far beyond her.   
Bemused, she watched the astrophysisist and PhD struggle to master the finer details of Delilah's saddle straps, eyeing him with a wary smile. They were each dressed in black outfits which covered every inch of their flesh, aside from the head, hands and feet. Amelia was positive that it had been no accident that hers was at least one size too small while Doppler's fit him like a tent. "It was all they had," he had said, without, she had noticed, an apologetic note in his voice. Twit.   
Eventually, Doppler managed to strap the disused, dusty saddle over Delilah's back. While simultaneously trying to calm the bouncing, shouting, and to Amelia's dismay, _drooling_ beast, it was no easy task. It took some perseverance, but they finally managed get both riders aboard the delighted bullyadous as she hopped and pranced around her tiny stable, happily honking at the top of her lungs to celebrate her midnight ride. Amelia was suddenly very glad that they didn't have any neighbours - this secret expedition was turning out to be hardly secret at all.   
"This had better not be a long trip," Amelia warned, her claws resting lightly on Doppler's shoulders.   
With another loud honk, Delilah shot off out of the stable, the sudden speed nearly knocking them both off her back again. Amelia couldn't help but think there was something prophetic about the way, all at once, it started to rain. 

  
It took half an hour and several tearful orders of "go home" to send Delilah on her way. It had been deemed impractical to bounce up to the front door of the impound lot on bullyadous back - somewhat conspicuous, even - but the animal had refused to leave her master behind.   
"She thinks I don't want her!" Doppler insisted, clearly distraught. "Perhaps we can go tomorrow, instead?"   
"Doctor," Amelia growled, spinning on her heel to give him the full power of her glare. "It took an hour and a half in the rain - in THIS outfit - to _get_ here. We're not stopping now."   
Bedraggled hair hung in her face with huge drops of water running from each strand, and her eyes were mere slits against the rain. Somehow, Doppler didn't think she was kidding.   
"All right," he sighed, turning once more to watch his pet disappear behind the heavy falling rain. "I think there's a smaller door than the one at the front, somewhere around to the right."   
Amelia nodded, blinking as Doppler pulled an expensive looking pair of goggles from the bag he carried. He fixed them over his eyes, scrutinizing the building ahead.   
"Ah," he said knowingly.   
"What is it, Doctor?" Amelia peered over his shoulder but could see nothing.   
"These goggles don't work," Doppler groaned. "Can't see a _thing_ through them!"   
"Let me see." Amelia rolled her eyes, pulling them off his face before he could do it himself. She glanced at them, slowly extending her claw towards the front. She rolled her eyes again. "Lens-caps, Doctor."   
"Oh." Even beneath the thick layers of boot polish which, in the rain, had melted to become a black mask across his entire face, Amelia could tell he was blushing. "I... er... well, I only bought them earlier this afternoon..." he murmured sheepishly, grabbing the goggles back. Avoiding eye-contact, he took the caps off the lenses and tried again. "Ah! I see it now, down there. It has an electronic lock on it. Not to worry, we have the equipment to take care of that!"   
Amelia didn't want to ask what else the doctor had bought in preparation for their "mission" that day. She hoped, momentarily, that they wouldn't need to use any of it either. Stealthily, they crept forwards - doing their utmost not to slip down the mud-slide of a hill. 

  
It seemed the guard detail truly had been scaled back. No one was patrolling around the building, which was perhaps a good thing, considering what they would have seen if they were. Clinging to the wall, Amelia and Doppler squelched noisily around the perimeter, searching for the door. Doppler's loose suit flapped every time he took a step. Flap, squish, squelch, flap. It sounded like Mr. Snuff in a swimming pool.   
When they finally did reach the door, Doppler yanked out an automatic lock-picking device, although it looked more like an electronic whisk with several small points extending from it. Amelia decided against pointing out exactly how illegal such devices were.   
"Now... how do I turn this on?" Doppler pondered aloud, rubbing his chin. Boot-polish, soft from the rain, smeared across his lower face in the darkness. He fumbled with the device, eventually managing to switch it on and aimed it at the lock as the point tapped the control pad lightly. It didn't take very long to disable the lock. 

  
Familiar voices floated up from the lower floor of the impound lot, bickering over this, that and the next thing, although the word "ridiculous" in conjunction with "equipment" seemed to appear the most often. Rhonda Frost, settled comfortably against the underside of the light-fixture, had never felt more triumphant. She raised her camera from her neck, snapping a lens specifically for dark shots over the front as she started clicking, taking a whole reel of flashless evidence.   
"Reagle," she hissed into a communicator in her coat pocket. "This night just got ten times better."   
"Did you find it?" Lars replied from the other end, his voice equally hushed.   
"No," Rhonda grinned, "but I will. That _captain_ woman and Doppler just broke in. They're _obviously_ here for the device!"   
"Great," Reagle didn't sound thrilled. "Can I go catch some shut-eye now, or what?"   
"Stay on the line," Rhonda snapped, her eyes bulging out with anger. That woman had just dropped straight past her through the very window Rhonda had let herself in by. It was going to be the first thing asked at a hearing, she knew - "who left the skylight open", that was - and Rhonda was desperately trying to think of a way to place Amelia and Doppler at the scene without incriminating herself. It seemed impossible, but then a little blackmail could go a long way. Having the evidence certainly couldn't _hurt_. 

  
"The ship is outside," Amelia noted quietly. She was looking out of a small window just opposite the door Doppler had come in through. "The rigging looks all right, but there are no sails."   
"Oh," Doppler exhaled. Nervously, he began chewing on his lower lip. Solar sails were enormous and very delicate. They were kept in insulated black tubes when they were down, and six people - _minimum_ - usually had to hang them so that they wouldn't fold over one another and power up. It was the fastest route to owning a pile of solar ashes, and nursing a set of burned fingers, if they did.   
"Before dawn," Amelia muttered, frowning at the pink horizon.   
Doppler blinked. "Sorry, you what?"   
"We need to get the sails up before dawn, Doctor," she repeated irritably, as though he was supposed to guess her whole intention from two words alone. Mr. Arrow, she knew, would have.   
"Oh, I see!" Doppler peered around the dim room, trying to spot a good place to store solar sails through the darkness. Eventually, his gaze fell upon a small corner of the room lined with shelves, which had been caged off from the rest of the room. He adjusted his glasses. "They might be over there."   
Amelia waved dismissively in the direction of the caged area, hardly bothering to look. "You go and check. I'll have a look at the engines."   
Doppler watched indignantly as the captain spun on her heel and strode confidently towards the door. This was going to be more difficult than he thought. 


	10. Grand Theft Nautical 2

**Prologue to an Epilogue**

CHAPTER 10 

(Part II of Chapter 9) 

Author's Note: *bows* And here's Ch.9 part two, or as the automatic chaptering device likes to call it, "Chapter 10". Thanks to all for the reviews :). Hopefully the next installment won't take three months to write, because it won't be 6000 words long. With any luck, anyway. 

Without the impatient captain breathing down his neck and making him nervous, the doctor found his lockpick worked quite efficiently. It made short work of the electronic padlock on the gate of what Doppler had since learned was the items hold. Trinkets from Amelia's cabin littered one shelf: charts and the remnants of the globe, which were carefully labelled. At last, he found a box filled with sail tubes. It was marked: _"Solar sails: Damaged by unknown heat source."_   
Doppler sighed, remembering with a groan that not only were the sails damaged, but the Mizzen mast had snapped completely. Another sticker on the box informed him blandly that they were due to be collected by an inspector that very day for examination. It seemed the investigation had been going rather slowly.   
"Now..." Doppler muttered, knowing he could never carry every last sail outside in one go. "Which ones go on the Mizzen mast?"   
The list of names made little sense to him, in spite of his general research into sailing. _Flying jib, Outer jib, inner jib_ ... what in blue blazes was a JIB? _Mizzen lower topsail_ - that didn't make any sense. If it was a top sail, how could it be LOWER? Still, it had "Mizzen" in its title, so Doppler dutifully dropped it back into the box.   
A familiar sound broke through Doppler's silent temper with the tubes (that were most unwilling to stay in a pile), the sound of robo-constable tracks creaking across the floor. Of course they wouldn't leave the post completely unguarded, would they? How stupid of him to think they ever would! In a single movement, he leapt to his feet, clawed desperately for the gate, and managed to pull it shut before the robo-constable could get any closer. He could have cried as he heard the padlock reseal itself, but thought the better of it as the silhouette of the robo-constable rolled by - and stopped.   
"Scanning," he spoke, into a communicator.   
Doppler held his breath, trying to keep perfectly still. Of course! The door had been opened - now they were looking for intruders! The silence on the other end of the gate was becoming long, unnerving. To Doppler's horror, his lungs quickly began to thirst for air - maybe holding his breath had been a mistake - and a burning itch began along his throat, demanding he took a fresh breath. But if he made a noise now, it would all be over - and he didn't want to imagine what kind of punishment they would receive for breaking and entering into a police compound to break probation!   
He was barely aware of how much time passed while his air-deprived imagination began throwing up images of stalks and gallows, but it felt like a lifetime until the robo-contable's mechanical drone broke through the tense silence.   
"Negative, no intruders on the premises."   
"Lock up," another voice commanded through the crackle of interferance. "They might return."   
Doppler released a long and grateful sigh of relief, realizing that the scanners must look for movement rather than heat or sound. They would be checking regularly now though, there was no time to lose - and he was locked in the item hold. Slowly, he lowered himself onto his hands and knees, carefully creeping to the bars of the cage to peek out. The robo-constable had gone outside - probably to arrest the captain, Doppler thought sourly. They'd find _him_ in the morning, asleep in the _locked_ item hold with an armful of sail tubes and a _lockpick_.   
He wondered, idly, if he'd even have a trial.   
"Doctor?" Amelia's whispered voice came from the far left. "What are you doing lying on the floor?"   
"Captain! There's a guard!" Doppler panicked, jumping to his feet. "And... er... "   
"You're not _locked in_ are you?" Amelia asked scornfully. "Slide that device under the gate, quickly."   
Without thinking, Doppler did as he was told. "How did you get back in? The guard locked the door."   
"The same way I did the first time," Amelia replied, as though it ought to have been obvious. "I was positive you'd been arrested, Doctor. How do you turn this on?"   
"There should be a small switch on the lower side. And what do you mean _arrested_?" he huffed.   
"Doctor, I'm releasing you from a prison you managed to lock _yourself_ into," Amelia said pointedly, pulling the gate open. "Bring those sails, quickly."   
They had to open the door again, as quietly as they could, as Amelia had immediately discounted trying to manouevre Doppler and several solar sails back up to the skylight. The moment they were outside they broke into a run, pounding around the outside of the building, and hardly caring that they would be splattered from head to foot in mud by the time they reached the ship.   
"Keep up, Doctor!" Amelia cried over her shoulder. She was going to add, "Or I shall leave you here" when she found herself face-to-face with the robo-constable. Doppler skidded around the corner moments later, thumping into the back of the captain. There was a long and uncomfortable silence as Amelia tried to hide her armful of solar sails behind her back without the robot noticing.   
"Ah," she said, swallowing visibly. "Good morning."   
Unimpressed, the robo-constable leaned forward, as if to get a closer look at them. He was so close to her now that Amelia could see both she and Doppler reflected back in his optic display units. Hair a mattled tangle, mud and, in the doctor's case, boot polish, smeared grubbily across their faces, arms full of obviously stolen solar sails as the tubes were individually stamped, "PROPERTY OF POLICE IMPOUND LOT #148711J". They looked like nothing more than overgrown street urchins. They were going to have a hard time bluffing their way out of this.   
"State your business."   
"Well," Doppler scratched the back of his neck nervously. "We were just - jogging!"   
"I think perhaps you had better come with me." The robo-constable seemed unconvinced. "For questioning. Command, this is -"   
But before he could finish, his head exploded. Doppler gawked at Amelia, who held a smoking plasma musket in her hand. "You're not the only one who made preparations, Doctor," she said smoothly, holstering it. "Hurry up." 

  
Doppler barely heard a word of Amelia's orders as they reached the ship. "Hang the sails once we're up," she continued, barely stopping to breathe, "...engines disabled, bloody useless... thrusters..."   
The _Legacy_ was a skeleton of what it had once been. Even the varnish had been stripped from the decks in a vain attempt to find the alien technology that simply didn't exist. Doppler dumped the sails on deck and turned curiously to face Benbow, watching the skyline nervously for the inevitable legion of robo-constables that were surely on their way to arrest them. The coast, unnervingly, was clear.   
"Captain, don't you think it's odd-" he began, gesturing at the empty horizon.   
"Not _now_, Doctor!" she spat at him. "We've got to get out of here! You take the helm, I'll be below."   
She disappeared below deck almost before Doppler could nod in agreement. He felt the ship rumble slightly and quickly finished untying the moorings, before he rushed to the helm as fast as his legs would take him. The ship was moving, but it was painfully slow.   
"The engines are completely useless," Amelia growled moments later as she joined Doppler. "They've disabled everything but the thrusters. We can go, but only at a snail's pace. And reserve power will continue to deplete itself exponentially until we either fall out of the sky or, if we reach open space, end up _sitting ducks_. I'm not exactly hopeful about the status of artificial gravity, either."   
With that, she looped a length of rope around Doppler's waist, and secured him to the steering wheel.   
"Er," Doppler gulped. Perhaps this idea hadn't been as wonderful as he'd originally thought. "Captain, I..."   
"No going back now, Doctor," Amelia interrupted, as though reading his thoughts. "We've just blown the head off of a robo-constable. I'll be standing by to attempt to engage artificial gravity. Keep us going in a straight line."   
"Aye, Captain." Doppler gripped the steering wheel with fresh determination, and only realised as an afterthought that she had willingly ordered him to drive. Smiling with a grim satisfaction, he hoped she wouldn't regret it. 

  
It took them much longer than either had hoped to reach the edge of Montressor's gravitational pull, and Amelia still hadn't been able to get the artificial gravity to respond. Hissing in frustration as her feet left the deck, she clutched the control tightly and punched in the command for what must have been the millionth time. No response.   
"Captain!" Doppler's girlish shriek interrupted her thoughts. She twisted and frowned as she saw him floating far above the steering wheel. Immediately, it began to turn, the ship veering dramatically off course.   
"Doctor, you've got to get back DOWN!" she cried, but could offer no more help than to gesture furiously at him. The rope, tied to the center of the wheel, began to twist tighter and tighter, reeling Doppler in like a spacecod.   
Amelia groaned, turning back to her work with the anti-grav. console and tried desperately to pretend she hadn't seen anything of the sort going on at the helm.   
At last, a pathetic 'bleep' confirmed that artificial gravity had been engaged. Landing with a graceless clatter on the deck, Amelia immediately looked to see what had become of Doppler.   
He was down at least, but tethered to the steering wheel; there was barely an inch between he and it. Quickly and efficiently, Amelia untied herself and dropped the rope as she jogged up to the bridge.   
"Are you all right, Doctor?" she asked, deliberately witholding various sharp comments she had at the forefront of her mind.   
"Yes," he muttered, struggling fruitlessly to pull himself free. "Help!"   
The captain picked silently at the knot holding the rope. It was quite difficult, she found, not to laugh at his plight.   
"You're laughing at me, aren't you?" Doppler demanded accusingly, turning as best as he could to glare at her.   
"Of course not," Amelia lied, sinking her teeth into her lip. "There we go," she added quickly, pulling the rope away.   
Doppler straightened himself up, trying to look as dignified as possible - though his bitter expression would suggest he had just eaten a barrel of lemons.   
"Right," Amelia cleared her throat and forced her mind back into form. She was Captain: controlled, stern and in charge. "Back to business, Doctor, without any more mishaps if you please. The sails need hanging."   
Doppler scowled at her. "I've never hung sails before!"   
"It's about time you started, then," Amelia said coolly. She looked away, frowning as she regarded the helm. Finally, she looped the rope through the steering wheel once, and tied each end to the banister opposite, forming a triangle. It was crude, but it would keep them on course, at least. "Right, Doctor," she clasped her hands behind her back. "Follow me." 

  
"Doctor!" Amelia lunged forward, trying desperately to grab Doppler's arm as he toppled off the rigging. She missed by a short mile and only just managed to catch herself. Doppler plunged to the deck, and landed with a sharp thud below. Amelia was thankful they had only been one partition up. The solar sail, abandoned by both, serenely floated down and covered the winded doctor entirely.   
"Hurry up, Doctor," Amelia called, knowing full well he was fine. "We haven't got _time_ for this nonsense."   
"_Yes_, I'm all right, thank you!" Doppler's muffled voice huffed from below. It took a few minutes before he reappeared, standing shakily to rub his lower back.   
It certainly didn't look as though any solar sails were going to be hung that day. Amelia scowled as visions of their immediate capture and arrest flashed before her. They, limping along in the dilapidated _Legacy_, could hardly sail a gentle eitherium breeze without falling off course. She hardly thought they could out-race a robo-constable ship - why, they would be lucky to make Montressor's neighbouring planet Monlisser before sundown at this rate. From below, Doppler's panicked voice dragged her back to reality.   
"Captain," he called, "do you hear that - er... siren?" 

  
"Let's check this out." Robo-Constable RC-Unit 1337 pointed mechanically at the wreck of a ship they had flanked. His companion, Robo-Constable RC-Unit 1450, rogered a confirmation as he buzzed up to the side of the ship.   
"Two crew members," RC-Unit 1450 reported, committing their image to file. "One male, one female. Canid and Felid respectively."   
"Can I help you, officers?" the female asked confidently, picking her way down the rigging immediately. The male seemed agitated, his large paws shaking.   
"What seems to be the trouble, ma'am?" RC-Unit 1337 asked.   
"Oh," she faltered. "We bought this old tub from a second hand ship salesman, by the name of..."   
"Stan," the male offered brightly, smiling.   
"Yes, Stan." She threw her crewmate a look, and he silenced himself. "We just can't seem to get the sails up though, I think it might have been a little too large for us -"   
"Ma'am," 1450 interrupted. "In response to the suspicious circumstances, it would be best for you to give us your name and home planet."   
"Well," the female started again. "This is my husband. Er... _Oily_." The male rubbed his face, frowning at her.   
"And this is my WIFE. _Delilah_," he added petulantly.   
"And your surname?" 1450 attached the names to the filed images, waiting.   
"_Idiot_," the female hissed, folding her arms across her chest.   
"Oily Idiot." 1337 addressed the male. "State your home planet."   
"Montressor," the male growled, his teeth clenched.   
"Delilah Idiot." the Robo-constable turned to the felid. "State your home planet."   
"Felidia Prime."   
There were no criminal records for either of them, it seemed.   
"Ma'am," 1450 inclined his upper-half slightly in a formal bow. "Is there anything we might assist you with?"   
For the first time throughout the conversation, the felid smiled. 


End file.
